The Forbidden Fruit | ꪜ

The Forbidden Fruit | 59

Malcom was dying on the inside just as Tyler was on the outside. He just channelled his anger in a different way.

The ride to the hospital was excruciating for Tyler, he was anxious, his hand twitched every other second and his mind flooded with worry. He didn't know what the outcome of today would be, if he walks into that hospital will his mother be okay? Will she be in critical condition?

He leaned against the glass panes, his eyes trailing the hospital which came into view. He leaned forward and snapped his gaze towards Malcom who pulled the car into the parking lot. Before Malcom to turn off the ignition Tyler was out of the car and rushing up to the main doors.

He pushed it open and tumbled inside, ignoring the eyes that followed his frantic movements. He made his way towards the receptionist table and slammed his hands down onto it unintentionally. His eyes were wide, wild. He rummaged his hands through his hair and leaned over the table. "Alesia Hart, I think she was transported here like thirty minutes ago! Can you please tell me her room number?!"

The receptionist nodded her head frantically and typed something into the computer just as Malcom approached them. He was out of breath, his eyes wide as well and he didn't miss the way everyone eyed the two peculiar guys. What did they expect? It's not like they're the first people to do this in history.

"Sir, she's in room 124, wing c. Go down the hallway to the right, take the elevator up until you reach C, alright?" Tyler thanked her and both he and Malcom rushed down the hallway and towards the elevator.

When they made it inside Tyler slammed his hand against the button which led them to wing C and toppled out as soon as the doors slid open. "124, 124, 224." He chanted repeatedly as they slid down the corridor, brushing past patients and visitors.

"Here!" Tyler snapped his head towards Malcom's voice and followed in suit behind him. They approached room 124 and peered through the window. There, laying on the hospital bed was their mother, drips attached to her arm, covered in a hospital gown and fast asleep.

His father sat beside her, his hands slipped into her own and his head hung low. Tyler could feel the tears stinging his eyes and he twisted the handle of the door and stalked in. Malcom in suit behind him lost for words.

"How is she? Is she okay? What happened?" Tyler babbled as he tumbled towards them. His father peered upwards and greeted them both with a sad smile. "She's okay. She was taking a shower and slipped after one side of her face went numb. Thankfully she didn't hit her head too hard when she fell and I got there just in time to rush her here. The doctors said it's due to stress and recommend a list of things for her to do.

From what I know this could be dangerous but your mother is still young, she's only forty-eight for crying out loud. A stroke can't–it will not kill her by the grace of God."

Tyler didn't take the grace of God as a yes she was definitely going to be okay. A stroke is many things and death is amongst it. He didn't want to feel that, losing someone so close to him. His family. . .his blood.

"Fuck." He muttered softly as tears pricked his eyes. He sucked in a harsh breath and spun on his heels. Shaking his head in disbelief. How can he leave his mother knowing this can happen again? Knowing that in a second she'll be completely gone and he might not be there to hold her hands when she dies.

How?

~ ~ ~

Arabella leaned against the tree, gazing up at the sun setting below the horizon. She wondered how the colours purple, red and orange mixed so elegantly together in the sky, almost as if it were a perfected image by an artist. She smiled, wondering if life could always be this beautiful.