The Skylar Experiment : Beginnings

Chapter Thirty-Five - Not a Normal Recovery

I WAS ABOUT TO defend 'you people', but it flew out of my mind when he pulled the curtain and I saw Emma lying down on the stretcher. As pale, frail and weak as ever, but awake. Her head limply turned to the spot where I stood. A faint hitched smile cracked her face. For a moment, I couldn't speak, overcome with emotion.

"Hey," she uttered.

I gaped at Luc and stumbled over to a chair. I was expecting good news, but also was not set for such a drastic improvement. Her lips weren't as chalky anymore. The horrible vein patterns had faded. But everything about her felt... amiss. Her voice, her slightly parted eyelids...

"Hi," I murmured, swallowing hard. "You're—you're—"

"Alive?" Her arms folded over her stomach, clutching the papery-thin comforter. She laughed bitterly. "I know, hard to believe."

"Well..." I rolled the sleeve of my jacket and lifted my arm, "that makes us twins, now."

It didn't cheer her up like I hoped it would, instead her tired eyes hollowed in terror. I exchanged a worried glimpse with Luc in the corner. Now that she had regained consciousness, I couldn't fathom the memories she struggled with—what she must have seen while being attacked. Emma was probably never going to be the same ever again, and I was in a position to understand.

I looked back at her and she seemed confused.

"Why are you crying?"

My cheeks were dry. I wiped a fingertip along my eye, and a small tear rubbed off. I never thought of myself as a weeper, but these recent weeks brought out this new side of me I hadn't been familiar with.

"I wasn't ready to be so happy. We were all worried."

She stretched out her small hand toward mine, unfolding her fingers, and clasped my own. 

"You're not getting rid of me so fast. You still need to give me my shoes back."

Warmth expanded in my chest, and I suddenly felt extremely fortunate to have met her on my first day of school. If she could brush death and crack a joke after waking from a coma, then I could put on my big girl pants and do something to prevent more people from being killed.

"About that... One of your heels saved my life that day. Now it's ruined."

"Oh, shoot... I loved them." She scrunched her nose. "You look like crap. When was the last time you had a good night's sleep?"

I smiled back at her, not bothered the slightest by the insult. "Since I moved here. Anyways, you look like a zombie."

"A hella pretty zombie."

I decided not to ask her about the attack or anything related to the Wanderers. I didn't want to ruin the miracle of her chipper mood. We didn't get to talk much further anyhow. A violent cough racked her tiny body. Luc stepped in and helped her sit up, practically supporting her entire weight by himself. He reached for a box of tissues.

Emma had a series of rattling coughs. Every time she changed tissue, the used one ended up stained in red.

A nurse arrived to read her vitals. Luc called it a night, saying she needed more rest and that it was time to drive me home. I agreed, suddenly glad he'd insisted to show me Emma's state rather than just calling me. She was going to make it eventually. Best news since I've moved here.

It will take time and it won't be easy, Luc said, but the worst was behind her.

On the way out, we passed through an admission desk, then a waiting area. The automatic entrance we came through lay beyond that open metal door at the end of the wall arrows. People were dozing off on plastic chairs, some with coughing children in their arms.

A beautiful, but dishevelled young woman was pacing in front of the visitors with a crying baby, checking the forehead every minute or so. The father nearby carried a bag in one hand and a purse in the other.

"Are you spending more time tracking those monsters?" I accelerated to keep up with Luc's cadence. "How is that going to work now if it didn't—"

I lost my breath when we left the waiting area and crossed into the large open floor still populated with new arrivals. One of them was a broad, bald man in his thirties flanked by an older couple. He was clutching the zipper of a brown coat against him. The exposed hand was so bony and pale, knuckles jutting out like ridges.

I couldn't take my eyes off him.

Luc put a stop to his walk several feet ahead, frowning. "What are you doing?"

Bypassers threw me weird stares, and I knew I should get moving before the man noticed I was shamelessly watching him, but it wasn't the sunken cheeks, the age or the frailty of him that stunned me. It wasn't how he was clearly at the end of his rope.

It was the small C pattern behind his ear.

"Sunshine?"

No way that thing was related to his condition. I was standing right there, the picture of health. I wanted to believe myself, to walk right up to him and make sure, but the visitor halted at a row of benches to dig a wallet out of his pocket.

Across the floor plan, he saw me.

I've never stared into such starving eyes. They were fully aware, surprisingly not disturbed by the intrusion. Outside of his appearance, he could be anyone existing in his own matters. A wily university professor, a jaded taxi driver, some hard-working plumber.

Maybe he was used to the attention now. The man mumbled words to the couple, and they hobbled on, toward the door we'd walked through.

"Sunshine, hey." A light hand pried on my forearm. I ripped my gaze away, feeling as though I'd been him for the briefest moment.

Luc seemed genuinely confused as he waited for a response. I hadn't told anyone about the scar hidden beneath my hair. I just didn't know how to process, because it was established that he'd never healed a head injury.

"He's dying of something. The man in the brown coat."

He caught a glance behind us, and it took a lot of effort to hold myself from twisting. "It could be anything." His fingers left my skin, but his concern didn't ease as he studied me. "You look terrified."

"I'm not, it's just..." I sighed, spreading both hands over my face. "It's unfair. Really unfair."

He nodded to that. "We can't change what he has. Come on. I'm sure your dad wants you home."

We stopped at his place to take the Rover because it got dark. Too risky not to. By then, I was able to recover my spirits and play it off. The only other person who might have any information was my dad. 

  ✩  

Most of you were probably sure I wouldn't dare to kill off Emma. My initial intention when I started writing the story was to kill her off, actually.  I have different plans for her now. Sorry for the very short chapter, but it didn't feel appropriate to put elsewhere.