Crimson

Chapter Fifty-One

Beeps and the sound of hissing flooded her awareness as the feeling a firm mattress beneath her, cradled Isabella. Moving her arm slightly proved troublesome as a sting of pain radiated near her elbow joint. Refusing to abate, the sharp discomfort threatened further agony as it throbbed throughout her arm. Fluttering softly, her eyes opened tenuously while the harsh artificial lights around her molested her vision.

The scene shifted, doubled and bowed as if space and time moved in a flux. Her nostrils took in cool air as breathing tubes against her nose poured potent, clean oxygen. A beep, beep, beep next to her continued as she made sense of her location, cascading over her, the sound bouncing from the walls, passing through the hallway, showering her with discomfort.

"Why am I here?" She thought to herself as her a pain ruptured from her body.

Agony on a scale, previously unknown, assaulted her as it gushed through her small frame. Gritting her teeth, her eyes rolling in her head as she rode the wave of torment. Flowing through the bane of her body's upheaval, Isabella let out a soft gasp as her eyes welled up with tears. Cascading down her face, she heard the soothing voice of someone next to her as a firm, masculine grip squeezed her free hand.

"It's ok mom. Just try to relax. I'll call the nurse." Celestino said solemnly.

Instantly aware of her eldest son's voice, Isabella turned quickly to see him sitting next to her bed. White-hot torment flowed through her neck as she sat with this unwise decision. With her teeth bared as the eruption cycled through her fragility, Celestino let out a soft chortle.

"I didn't expect to see your fang mom. Rest, please. I'll get the call button."

Standing up to push the red button, seated on a remote hanging from the bed, Celestino felt a weak tug on his forearm as he looked down to see his mother's moist eyes, large and focused glancing at him. With his mouth agape, Celestino nodded before returning to his seated position next to her bed.

Weakly, Isabella croaked, "They can't help me. I need to talk to you. You need to know what's happening to me."

"Yeah, ma. You're not well." Celestino said firmly holding his mother's hand.

Chuckling softly, before wincing as new pain reminded her of her plight, Isabella continued hoarsely, "Yeah, that's saying it lightly, son." Turning away, she said softly, as her eyes met the ceiling, a simple tear running down the side of her face, "I think I am dying, Tino."

"No, no." Celestino said incredulously. "You're just sick, ma. Don't be silly."

Turning to face him, slowly, Isabella continued softly, "It's ok. I know this is hard to hear." Squeezing his hand, she continued, "There's much more I need to say. Please be patient and hear it."

A knock at the doorway roused the two of them as they quickly turned their attention to the intrusion. Short and squat, an African American individual with a stethoscope eyed the room before turning their attention to a chart before them. Taking time to review the material, her eyebrows furrowed as her eyes passed over the information.

Walking forward, the woman said, with a curious tone, "Ms. Herrera, I am Doctor Rudie Banks. How are you feeling?"

"Terrible." Isabella said.

Eyeing her, the doctor said, "Yes. I can see that. You've been asleep since you were brought in on Friday. It's Sunday, now." The doctor announced with her southern drawl hanging in the air.

"W-what?!" Isabella said attempting to lift her body fruitlessly.

Ignoring the pain protesting violently in her body, Isabella managed to scoot herself a tiny bit upright as her eldest son protested. Dr. Banks looked on, examining Isabella with a suspicious eye.