The Supposed Terrorist

Chapter 5.5

10 years back

The visage of my mother was not visible, as the doctors operated on her. My hand went to rest on the hard glass window. I withdrew it with a jerk as the window tinted itself red with blood. I tried to wipe the blood off on my t-shirt but instead it stained all my clothes.

"Artem!"

I took a few steps back from the door.

"D-dad, Mom–" I said, my voice shaking. My father was panting for breath as his arms came around me. His hands roughly rubbed the sides of my shoulders, in an attempt to calm me down.

Tears streamed down my cheeks. "I- I came back and... she... I..."

He wiped the moisture away with his thumb. "Mom is going to be fine."

The events flashed in my mind and panic gripped me. I buried my face into his shirt, choking for words and breath. He kept rubbing my back.

The door opened and a single doctor came out.

"How is she?"

"Mister Wing, the patient's condition, it's extremely delicate. We are doing what we can," the man replied.

"Is she going to be fine?"

"It's hard to guarantee anything."

The words started to jumble together and my breath got shakier. I freed myself from the grip of my father's arm and stumbled into the waiting seat. I looked at my hands. The watch on my wrist had blood on it.

"Jay!" My aunt's familiar voice came. She rushed to us from the other side of the hall. Her words with my father became inaudible next. The only thing I caught was the final 'Please take Artem back home'.

"No," I said. "I am not going."

My aunt turned towards me and kneeled down. "Just for a short while, Artem. Your dad will be here."

"I am not going," I repeated, my throat hurting. "I am staying with him and mom."

"Go home with your aunt, Artem." My dad seated himself beside me. "Your clothes are all dirty. Go home, get a change of clothes, rest. You can come back then."

"No."

"When mom wakes up," he went on. "You wouldn't want her to see you like this."

I hesitated.

"Please?" he said.

"Promise you will call me if she... she.."

"I will ask Cassandra to drop you at the hospital immediately, I promise." He held out his pinkie finger.

"I am not a kid anymore," I muttered. "I believe you."

He gave a weak smile. "To parents–"

"Kids always remain kids," I finished it for him. "Yeah. Yeah, I know."

He hugged me one last time and I reluctantly left with my aunt. I remained silent as she drove, gazing out of the window. The sun set, enveloping the sky in a gloomy rusty shade.

"I heard you called your dad and the emergency services immediately."

The images flashed again in front of my eyes. Home, the knife, the pool of blood, the silhouette of a man running out of the backdoor and my mom's gasp of my name.