Vines of Hunger | ONC 2024

chapter five | our last goodbyes

I have no real reason to answer her and the implication that seeks refuge within her words, she's witnessing my Nan leaning into the side of my ribs, unable to hold herself up, ringlets of her dull silver hair sticking to pale, sweat ridden flesh.

Did they just let their loved ones go in alone? Casted them to the uncertainties that awaits them on the other side, as they wait just beyond the sidelines?

I veer away, the breeze blowing strands of my fair, golden locks over the side of my icy, rose tinted cheeks as I enter the cold, bustling room.

People are a product of what our society has built, unable to think outside of the box that each of us have been handed, unwilling to believe beyond what the powerful make believable. But as one, the clusters that they have built will break, shattering the will that once held them substitute; spitting in the face of the ones that force fed them the scripture that bound them so tightly. And as one, they will destroy the box that kept them compliant, and point a ragged dagger at the beings that created it.

I always questioned what that quote meant and what afterthought I was supposed to take from it. The meaning so clear yet unidentifiable. But it didn't make sense because it was not meant for the person I was in the moment, but for the woman that stands here now as I still begin to unravel the meaning sewed within.

Like a flock of hungry seagulls, the figures of strife cluster around the small desk, shielded by a scratched plastic frame. Their words form a wall of sound that bounce off the emergency room walls, creating a chorus of pleading beggars.

hair, arms, legs all mangled together as they all try to scream their own worries at the short woman in the baby blue button up, her face pale as she raises her hands upward, palms flashed in an attempt to settle the crowd of thrusting bodies and angry syllables.

I turn my wandering eyes away from them and lean down to the small, disturbingly uncomfortable chairs they have set up in the tiny room. Settingling my Nan-nan down in one of the few and plopping my knees down to the dirty lino "I'm just going to the check in point, okay, I'm gonna try to get you someone who can help you, and then after its done and your well, we can get back home to Eliana," my words are gentle as I peer into her eyes, but I can't help when my faint, thin brows furrow downward.

Her irises seem paler than the typical light brown that has always gazed back at me, almost like a whitish tint clouds the colour behind them, or saps the vibrancy out.

Like that man.

I've try to push the lingering thoughts away, attempting to focus on Nan in this moment, but flickers of his ghostly features slip through the cracks, the bang of the gun still trembling within me.

With a strained smile tugging at my dried lips, I push my hands against my lower thighs, grinding my palms into the cheap material and lift myself from the floor

"I'll be back shortly."

Without hesitation, I trudge forward into the crowd of feverish bodies. Elbows jab into the sides of my ribs. Wouldn't surprise me if they could feel each individual organ sloshing about in my small stature. With vulgar velocity, I jab the ends of my pointy elbows right back as I shove my way forward through the overwhelming stench of unwashed musk until a woman trying to calm the crowd comes into view.

A tall body shoves into the side of me as I extend my hand toward the lady, hoping she'll see me amongst the bodies. "Ma'am! Ma'am, please I need medical assistance, my Nan's sick and she needs to see a doctor now."

"Ma'am, please!"

My shouts fall to the echoing sync of everyone else, one voice of pleads that bleed together. My breath is heavy as my eyes fall down to the tag pinned to the top side of her shirt, having to squint to see what it spells out.