A few hours later, a surgeon appeared.
"Mr Thompson? Lizzie's father?"
"Yes. T-tell me. Is she alright?"
"She's in recovery now. The surgery went good. The neurosurgeon stopped the internal bleeding. Dr Higgins worked on her liver."
"Is she gonna wake up?" asked Leo.
"She should wake up."
Okay, that was THE most REASSURING thinkg I've ever heard.
"Do you wanna see her?"
Bet we do.
He took us to the recovery wing of the hospital. All the way down Lizzie's room, the doctor talked about every detail of the surgery. How Lizzie's brain was bleeding out, and so was her liver. How they had to do a liver transplant. How her heart stopped in the middle of the surgery and stuff like that. Because all George wanted to know was that his daughter died and then came back to life again.
We entered the room.
"Oh my God, Liz" was all I could say.
"She's on a respirator. The machine is breathing for her at the moment. She is under a massive amount of anesthetics for the brain surgery."
All we could see was the pale little face of my baby Lizzie, so innocent, under all those cables and tubes and bags and stuff. I couldn't stop crying. I was there, standing besides Leo, whose eyes were full of tears too. He had "hated" his sister all the time, all his life, the "brother-sister hate" I never enjoyed, he had beat her, argued with her. But now, he regretted everything. I knew that.
George knelt down on the floor and held his daughter's cold hand and hid his wet face in it. Tears rolled down from my eyes. Leo was still hanging on.
Seeing me crying, he took me out of the room to the hall and hugged me. A big hug, like the one we had at the square.
"You should go home," he whispered. "Go get some rest. It's been a rough day."
"N-no...I...I want to stay here...With Lizzie..."
"There's nothing you can do right now. Except maybe go home and take a nap or something like that. We'll call you if there's anything new."
"No, Leo. No."
"Yes. Yes you will go home. For me. I can't see you so sad. Let me deal with it with Dad."
"Fine. But you call me if there's something new."
"Sure." he murmured in my ear.
I hadn't made a step when he cought my arm and said: " And Emily, don't forget that I love you."
YOU ARE READING
New York, the big apple of my heart
RomanceThe story of Emily Miller, 17, lives in New York, a perfectly normal life. Not. A mother who couldn't care less about her, a best friend who is the only person that understands her...Everything was relatively fine until there were two men killing ea...
