Hide (Mommy's House 3)

14

Bella's heart pounded hard against her ribcage.

Her father was laying in a hospital bed, his eyes closed, the machines beeping around him, and bandages covering almost the entirety of his face.

Bella's gaze then locked on the machine that measured his heart rate, watching as the green line continued to zig-zag and flatten at a steady pace. Her eyes almost hurt beneath the fluorescent lighting, and her stomach turned as she inhaled the scent of strong, chemical cleansers with each breath.

"I'm sorry," Bella swallowed, before she blinked her eyes shut, and let a few tears drop down her cheeks. She felt like she couldn't breathe. "I'm so sorry, Daddy."

Her father continued to breathe, the rising and falling of his chest bringing immense comfort to Bella. She walked up to him and looked down at his hand. A pulse oximeter was clamped onto his index finger. She gripped his thumb and squeezed it softly.

"It's Bella, I'm okay. I'm okay and I'm here," she said through shaky breaths.

She'll never forget the feeling she felt:

"They found your father..." James said, his eyes locked on the road in front of him as he drove. His voice was soft, filled with sympathy.

"What? They found him... where? Who? What'd they do?" Bella nearly screamed out.

James exhaled sharply, and pulled into the parking lot of the hospital.

Livid would be an understatement. Bella didn't know who exactly was behind all of this, but she wanted to know, so she could feel their veins protruding from their neck beneath her fingertips as she strangled them. So she could feel their warm blood splatter onto her face as she slit their throat. So she could kick them, and punch them, and gleefully listen to their bones cracking beneath the force of her beatings, to the point where they were unrecognizable. She wanted to hear them struggle for air. She wanted to watch their life slip away.

Bella couldn't stop shaking. She squeezed her fingers into fists, so hard that when she released them, she had crescent-moon shaped indents embedded in her palms.

"I'm going to make them suffer," Bella assured him, her teeth gritted together. "They're going to suffer."

Bella leaned into her father carefully and pressed her lips against his forehead.

When she turned, Cole was standing at the doorway, his eyes locked on her father. His stare glistened - whether from tears or the bright, white lamps above them, she wasn't sure. His lips were parted slightly as he then looked at Bella.

"Are you okay?" he might have asked her. She knew he said something, but was that what he said? Bella couldn't understand him.

"What?" she whispered, trying to swallow the vomit that threatened to climb up her throat.

Everything was moving in slow motion for her. Nothing would register.

In the blink of an eye, she was outside, the setting sun glazing the world in a golden glow as her sneakers smacked roughly against the pavement. When did she get outside? People were talking, but what were they saying? Bella tried to focus on a word, but couldn't understand a thing.

James opened the back door of his car, and Cole cried out - "shit!", his arms quickly wrapping around her waist in an attempt to catch her, as her legs slowly collapsed beneath her. He led her carefully down to the pavement, the gravel digging into her arms, as her world went black.

Her eyes opened, and the first thing she noticed was her blaring headache. It felt like her head was in a vice, her skull slowly getting crushed between it.