When I regain consciousness, I am once again in my bed. This time, there are many people crowding my room. Most I have never seen before.
“What’s going on?” I ask in a groggy voice, my throat hoarse.
“Gracee?” A man steps forward, and I notice the police badge on his shirt. “My name is Officer Johnson, can I speak with you?”
“What happened?” I ask him. I keep seeing flashes of my father and Xander, but I cannot remember what is real and what is just in my imagination.
“Gracee, what is the last thing you remember?”
“Well, I was in the hospital and then I fell asleep, and I woke up again during the night and - oh!“ My sharp intake of breath startles the growing crowd. The previous night all comes rushing back to me, a deluge of memories so overwhelming that I cannot breathe. “Xander!” I cry. “Is he all right?”
“Yes honey, Xander is fine, but, well I’m afraid that your father didn’t make it. He was banned from the hospital, in order to protect you, but he snuck in with a gun. That young man saved your life. If he hadn’t been there, we would’ve probably never seen you again.” Tears begin to well up in my eyes. All around the room people begin cooing and try to comfort me, but they don’t understand. These are tears of joy. All this time I spent fearing for my life, broken and bruised, it’s over! I cannot fully grasp the full meaning of what they are telling me. I try to sit up, but when I push my body into a sitting position, I recoil, moaning as my side aches.
“What is that?” I hiss through my teeth. The chattering nurse steps up and reaches out to hold my hand.
“Sweetie, you got shot. Cracked a few ribs, but don’t worry, nothing permanent. You’ll be all healed up in no time!” She is smiling, but it looks forced.
“What aren’t you telling me,” I glance around suspiciously. Several of the visitors suddenly seem to have better things to do and rush out quickly. “What is it?” I growl. The nurse, who seems to have been chosen as the unofficial spokesperson, looks me in the eyes.
“Baby, your daddy is gone but you don’t have anywhere else to go. You’re getting put in the foster care system.” My eyes widen in fear; after hearing Xander’s story, I can’t accept this.
“NO! YOU CAN’T DO THIS!” I shout, struggling to sit up, even though the pain is almost unbearable. “I WON’T LET YOU!” I see the remaining crowd glance at one another uneasily, and the nurse inches to the side of my bed, where she presses a button for my pain medicine. I continue to struggle, although it’s no use, I can already feel the effects of the drugs kicking in. I yell as loud as I can as the group quietly exits the room. The only person who remains is my nurse, a sad smile on her face.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she whispers. Her face is the last thing I see as I go under again.