Quarantine

Only A Fool: Part 1

"So how's he doing?"

"Not good, actually." My mother shifted beside me, stumbling over her words. "The doctors said it's getting harsher. The medicine...it's not doing anything." She sniffled. "Oh, honey." Pulling me closer to her side, she laid her head against my shoulder as we both watched through the glass at my father's still form. "I don't think he's going to make it." 

I jumped away from her, the look of horror and irritation all over my face. "How can you say that? Don't say that!" Panic starts to rise in my chest and I start to worry that the pill didn't work after all. "He'll be fine." My voice cracked. "I know he will." 

My mother watched me sadly, shaking her head. "You're right." She looked back at my dad. "He said not to say such things like this. It'll only overwhelm you."

"Stop it!" I shoved past her, not bothering to even pull up my mask. "Dad. Dad? Dad are you okay?" I rushed to his side. His eyes flutter open halfway, a soft grin appears. "You're going to be fine. I know you are."

"How?" 

"How what, dad?"

"How...how do you know...I'll be fine?" He slowly muttered.

"I-I...I just know, okay?!" 

"No...I know the truth. I know what you-what you did."

I frowned, my brows scrunched up in confusion. For a minute, I didn't understand what he meant, but then it dawned on me. I gasped. "Dad, please."

"Where...where did you get it? What did you do to get it, Gabriella?!" His hand suddenly grabs my arm, squeezing it tightly.  

I whimper, squirming in his hold. "Dad, you're hurting me." But he doesn't let go, only leans towards me, the look of distraught and disappointment evident in his eyes. 

"I don't know where you got it...what you did-did to get it...but I didn't take it. You-you put it in m-my food. I didn't swallow...it. How could you?"

Tears slide down my cheeks and I swallow hard, unable to form any words. I shook my head, refusing to believe that he didn't take it and why he didn't take it. "You can't die on me. Do you hear me? You can't die!" My voice rings louder, echoing through the entire room and reaching behind the glass. 

His grip loosens as a fit of coughs takes over him. He won't stop. He can't stop. He coughs and blood seeps from the corner of his mouth. It sounds like he's dying. Like this is his end. 

"Somebody help!" I hear a muffled voice scream from outside. The door bursts open, hammering of footsteps enter the room and I lose sight of my dad as his body continues to convulse. A hand grabs my arm and forcefully drags me out. I scream for him. I cry for him. I reach out for him, but the hand only shoves me away harder. My knees make a hard impact with the hospital floor and I cry out. The sterile smell clouds my thoughts, it makes me sick, drives me insane. "Honey!" A woman kneels beside me, holding onto me and crying. Maybe it was mother, I can't tell, but as I look up, I see a face that I can very admit to knowing.

He stands there, unmoving, hands in his pockets with a blank face. There's no sympathy or sadness in his dark eyes. There's nothing. He's a monster. He's my enemy. He killed my father. 

I let out an animalistic growl and lunge myself at him. My hands grab his shirt tightly as my mother tries to hold me back. "You! It's all your fault! You did this! You!" I wailed. I shook him roughly, but he doesn't seem fazed.

"My fault? He didn't take the pill. That's his own fault." He muttered in a monotoned voice.

"You fucker!" My palm makes contact with his cheek, the hard impact stinging my palm. "I hate you! I hope you rot in hell! It's your fault." My mother finally pulls me off of him and another woman quickly approaches at his side.