Open Heart {Under Revision}

Chapter 33- The Words Left Unspoken

'So many secrets in my family. Secrets as my friend. As my parents. As my protector. As my pain. As my ladder to climb over window in my dark cell and peer out to sun. It takes time, you know? It takes time...but...I promised to keep looking for morning light.'

—Charlotte Turner
A note to Dr. Vita Brown

San Diego, Eleven Years Ago...

I found Daniella and two maids running and ushered them to father's study.

"SYLVAN!" my aunt screamed, voice a crash of waves on shore. She knelt beside him and began sobbing, no longer the calloused doctor I knew. Despite shock binding my bones, I managed to get it together and called EMS.

The next moments were blurred. Sirens. EMS personnel. Sylvan in stretcher. His hollow eyes. Ambulance. Car. Driving. Crying. Me dialling to mother. Turner Memorial came in focus.

"Name –Dr. Sylvan Turner, Age- Eighteen. Potential absence seizure, bleeding from respiratory tract—internal fluid congestion." an intern updated to attending as we moved Sylvan on stretcher, in hallways of my family's hospital.

I scampered along, trying to keep pace. Father appeared out of thin air, eyes wide and hair dishevelled as if broken from a rigorous inquisition. He gaze fell on me and I almost prepared for a slap. He was disturbed and I must take blame.

But his strike never came. Mercy.

In front, Uncle Shawn had a death grip on Sylvan while tears streaked down on Daniella's face. I was too aghast to react or say anything. They rushed him into the ER and pushed me to stay outside. We were in our hospital and they were keeping me out? Keeping me out from my own cousin?

I was about to protest when Daniella stopped me and narrowed her eyes sharply— the way she did when she was very angry or irritated. One word from her and father would rain fire on me. So I kept my mouth shut and leaned against a wall—tired, confused and dumbfounded. Sylvan collapsing in front of me and then that seizer...the dreadful feeling of an incoming unprepared assault scared me.

A hand rested on my shoulder and I flinched. It was the same intern who took Sylvan inside but he was a stranger and of late times, touches from strangers—or anyone except Sylvan troubled me as if ice became fire over my skin to burn.

"Why don't you go and sit there, honey?" he insinuated in a kind voice. "Your family will join you out shortly."

The urge to argue rose but I bit it back. No need to make a scene and face father's wrath. So in trembling steps, I tethered to a chair and watched people passing by in sync of lumbering minutes. Naveen came by to check on me and I quietly passed on about the case.

"It's alright. Right now, Sylvan matters." he allayed in a soft tone but I didn't miss disappointment flickering in his eyes. I failed him too. We couldn't get out now...maybe ever.

I waited and waited, minutes turned to hours and nobody came out. They had taken Sylvan to a private room and a nurse conferred that he was stabilized but they won't allow me in. They were cruel. Turners were cruel but Sylvan wasn't. Why the world was being cruel to him?

And then, my father walked down from hallway exulting confidence in his steps—not letting fear obscuring in his eyes. His hard and handsome face bore no expression as he took my hand in his and pulled me off my feet. The grip was searing. It was like holding a hot coal, waiting for the skin to burn.