Letters to Isabella

twenty nine.

Sandra pursed her lips together slowly and pushed the twenty dollar bill back across the desk towards me. "I don't want your money." She murmured. She glanced over at Dean who was sobbing uncontrollably into Isabella's chest. After a few moments of silence she sighed and began to print off a sheet of paper. She handed it to me with stern eyes. "This never happened." She explained, pointing to the floor and room number that Michael Morris was located at. "Only one of you can go and you need to be quick. If anyone asks, you're family, okay?"

I nodded and slipped the piece of paper into the pocket of my jeans. "Thank you so much. I truly appreciate it."

I quickly turned on my heel and hurried back to the kids. I knelt down in front of Dean and encouraged him to look me in the eyes. "I know where your father is. I'm going to check on him, okay? I need you guys to stay here whilst I'm gone. Do you think you can do that?"

The three of them nodded and just as I was about to head to the elevator Laura ran in through the double doors and smiled with relief when she saw us. She ran into my arms and pulled away breathlessly. "Do you know where he is? Is he alright? Can Dean see —"

"I'm heading up to his room now." I explained. "I won't be long. Can you stay with the kids and make sure that they're okay?"

Laura nodded in response and smiled wearily at me. "Sure honey, of course I can."

She took a seat beside Bailey and I quickly darted off in the direction of the elevator. "Okay..." I murmured to myself, frantically searching all of the buttons. "Ah! Sixth floor!" I whispered, slamming my finger against the button labelled 6.

The elevator quickly came down and luckily enough it was fairly empty besides one elder looking woman who stood with a walking stick in her left hand and a box of half eaten food in her other. The ride to the sixth floor was filled with awkward side glances and smiles until finally my stop came and I couldn't have felt more relieved to step off that elevator if I'd tried.

I hurried down the endless hallways until I finally came to room 506. "Check mate." I whispered to myself, turning the handle to the door. I stepped inside and quietly closed it behind myself. In the bed laid a man with a half shaved head covered from his head to his toes in bruises and cuts. "Michael Morris?" I asked, catching his weary attention.

He furrowed his messy untamed eyebrows in my direction and began to frantically scan the room. "Are you one of my doctor's?"

I grabbed a chair and sat down at the edge of his bed. I shook my head and held my hand out. "I'm Ross Lynch. I brought your son here tonight. He had a phone call from the hospital explaining that you and his younger sister had been involved in a car accident."

"Where's my boy?" He asked. He had a southern accent and he was now forcing himself to try and sit up when we both knew it was merely impossible for him to do so in his current physical state. "You've got no business bringin' him here!"

I stared in disbelief at him. "I didn't exactly have a choice. He's a thirteen year old boy. How would you expect him to get here?"

"By catchin' the bus, just like he always does." He replied, shaking his head in frustration at me. "How the hell did you get in here anyway? I don't know you from Adam!"

"None of that matters." I bluntly stated. I pointed my finger into his face in anger. "You could have died tonight." I whispered harshly into his ear. "Why would you put your life and better yet your daughters life on the line like that?"