Before We Go; Tim Wright X Reader

Ch: 01

His hand was cold, fingers stiff as steel and bendable like elastic. His eyes, vacant and hollow, staring upwards at the ceiling. Skin gray and sunken, his cheekbones are sharper and more noticeable than usual.

Her father's appearance only got worse by the day, reminding her that every hour that passes was an hour closer to his death. Like an event or holiday written on a calendar, she has waited for his last moments anxiously, not sure if being impatient of his soon passing was good or not.

She instantly feels nauseated when she smells the tenacious lavender scenting in the white and blue hospital room. She hated that smell. She has become tired of it, recurring over and over and she has begun to wonder why it was always lavender. Begins to wonder why she was even angry at the smell. She could never think correctly, not since a few months ago, when pounding headaches and amnesia was the least of her problems.

Her mother sits across from her, her crinkled, tired eyes squinting down at her decaying husband whose grasp on life was slipping, a tissue clenched tightly in her hand. Her mother used to look so absorbed at the mere thought of life; as if she held the whole solar system in her hands, craving for self-control and limitless power. That was until her father had fallen ill four years ago. Sickness fills his veins like a toxic poison, it has paralyzed his body and rendered him completely immobile. Recovery was impossible.

Her father never reacted to anything anymore, he slept most of the time. Whenever his eyes were opened it never really seemed like he was alive. Not even conscious or aware of what went on around him. He had become like a robot, but as days went by he became rusted and nonfunctional. Wires and turning circuits have stopped working. He was a shell of a person who died the day they discovered he was sick. He may have been breathing with the help of machines, but he wasn't alive. He was only still here because her mother refused to take him off life support. Either for having little hope he may get better or just for her own benefit.

Although she was never close to her father, even as a little girl, it was very uncanny to witness the person who she shared half her DNA with perishing away so easily. Of course, she cared about him, but only to the extent where she viewed their relationship as acquaintances, not father and daughter. That thought was weird. They didn't have anything in common, sometimes they were just two strangers under the same roof. No association with one another at all. To her, that disconnection was normal.

Her hard fixed stare is torn away from her father when she hears her mother call her name. She already knew what she wanted, she had told her mother already so many times before that she was leaving. For a month now. Her mother just couldn't accept it, to her the idea was completely crazy. Idiotic.

"Y/N, I just don't understand you. Your father is dying and you want to leave town?" Her mother has started to weep loudly again, using her already damp tissue to dry her tears. She seems to always be crying, even before her father fell ill. Always questioning others. Always prying at her, with nosy and needy hands. She hates it. She hates her. Honestly, she hates her entire family except for her cousin whom she was very close too. He was the only relative she could tolerate. Everyone in her family had mental problems, drug addictions or was a crazy alcoholic.

"I'm leaving, okay? We have already gone over this many times already. Just drop it." Y/N shuffles, changing her sitting position to get more comfortable. She pulls the sleeves of her dark green coat around her hands, slightly shivering from the cool breeze from the venting above her. Though it may have been late June, she felt more comfortable wearing long sleeves. Short sleeves made her feel too exposed. Vulnerable, in a strange way.

Her mother shakes her head, looking at her with a reaction of utter incredulity, "Unbelievable! I know you and your father aren't close, but he's still your father!" She was angry now, eyes narrowed at Y/N and eyebrows furrowed towards her nose. Her bottom lip started quivering, Y/N spotted the tears already building up in her mother's eyes.

Y/N almost rolls her eyes, "We may be related by blood, but that doesn't mean I have to treat him like it. You should know that better than anyone, you don't even talk to your parents." Y/N remarks in an inattentive tone, not having the desire to speak to anyone at the moment. Especially when that person was just talking to you to let out their frustration. "If you're just going to yell at me, I'm going to leave. I have better things to do than stay here and let you push me around. I'm not a child anymore, I am free to make my own decisions as an adult."

Her mother recoils just a bit, "Better things? You have something to do that is so much more important than supporting your dying father?" She looks offended, but Y/N knows even before he got sick that she didn't care too much about him. He was a wealthy doctor and she was a poor woman fishing for money. It's kinda ironic that a doctor has fallen ill, but even if he wasn't a doctor, the disease couldn't have been prevented.

Y/N gathers her belongings, stands up. She feels the corner of her mouth turn up to a snarky smile, "Yes, I need to finish packing up my things so I'm ready to leave tomorrow morning." Y/N tells her, walking closer to the door as her mother is having a complete meltdown.

"You are so heartless, I can't even believe you right now!" Her mother is screaming at this point, her face beet red, covered in tears and sweat.

Y/N stops at the door entrance, eyes darting over to her mother who now stood a few feet away. "Oh, I'm sorry, it's just that I was raised by an inconsiderate woman who only cares about her public image and doesn't even care about the wellbeing of her own child!" She replied in a sharp tone, her mother was really starting to make her angry. "When you have nobody to love you while you grow up, you tend to become heartless."

She walks out the door and down the nearly empty hall, ignoring the cries of her mother to never come back. The few nurses in the hall stop to glance back at the woman screaming at the doorway of her father's room.

Her insults make her chuckle dryly, unamused at her Mother's behavior. That's good, she wasn't planning to return, anyway.

Never.

Not when that creature was stalking her.