Night has already fallen as I gaze down at the hospital bed, the small lump beneath the blankets gently rising and falling in a calm rhythm. Strands of hair, so blonde the sun might envy it, splayed across the white cushion. The room is bathed in a murky darkness but I know that, if I could see her face, Lucy's pale complexion would radiate the kind of beauty one wouldn't believe existed, even if they saw it with their own eyes.
I have seen it.
I've seen the strength and resilience shining through her sky blue eyes, a defiance which had often caused her mother trouble, as well as great joy. I've seen the pure, untainted innocence displayed in her features, the childlike wonder as she asks question after question, never satisfied with a simple answer.
She is so strong.
A pang shoots through my chest at the notion of a child, so small and delicate, suffering through this. Having to endure the physical pain of chemotherapy, as well as the emotional trauma of seeing loved one's around her breaking down. I know she blames herself for the tears that have become a constant in her mothers eyes; the anguish that never fades.
Even at six years old, her wisdom exceeds that of many others.
I blink several times, fighting the water threatening to fall from my eyes. This room has seen so many tears, so many brittle smiles. I don't want to add to that.
I feel his presence in the room even before Marcus speaks.
"Tori, there you are." He is breathing heavily even though his tone remains gentle. "I've been looking all over for you. We need to get going."
I take a last look at her form before getting up from my space on the edge of Lucy's bed, forcing my aching legs to stand. I glance at Marcus, tears still shining in my eyes, and he opens his arms without as much as a word, reading the situation and offering comfort without hesitation.
Stepping into his warm embrace I revel in the feeling of comfort that radiates from his body, my muscles relaxing slightly. His suit smells of washing detergent.
"Don't worry, I'm sure she'll pull through." His voice is a gentle lull as his fingers glide over my hair. "She's a fighter."
That she is.
I've worked with Marcus for a while and, even though we haven't exactly been the closest of friends, he understands my struggles; the emotions that follow me like a rain cloud. He himself often has difficulty dealing with sick children, seeing their joyful smiles falter as we deliver bad news, feeling the tension as parents and carers slowly lose hope.
Sighing, I reluctantly pull away. "We better get going, Dr. Smith won't be happy if we're late again."
"We're always late." He remarks and I can practically hear the smile on his lips, causing my own lips to twitch in response.
But it's the truth. No matter how important these events are to the hospital, we both hate attending. Charity balls only happen once a year, if that, and any staff that wishes to attend is welcome. I, however, am apparently required to be there on account of my Uncle.
If Marcus and Sam didn't go, I don't think I would survive these things.
With one hand on my lower back, Marcus steers us out of the hospital and towards his car. It's a small, red Corvette Stingray, the pride and joy of my coworker. I remember the day he had first bought it and drove it to work. None of us had ever seen him so happy over something as trivial as a car, but the smile lighting his face could not be dampened for the duration of the week.
I'm about to get in when Marcus hurries to my side, opening the door with an elegant bow, a goofy grin spreading across his face.
I give him a small smile in return, muttering a 'thank you' and settling into the plush leather seat. As soon as the engine purrs to life, we're out of the parking lot and on our way to the manor. Besides the occasional pop song filtering through the speakers, the short drive is filled with a comfortable silence, allowing my mind to rest after a long day.
After seemingly endless amounts of sleepless nights, I've come to the conclusion that worrying would not help in this situation, and that I could forget about Christian for a little while.
I scoff inwardly. If only it was that easy.
I'm jolted from my thoughts as gravel crunches beneath our tires, signaling our arrival at the manor.
I look upon the building in awe as we slowly roll along the path. It is massive, possibly the size of our hospital even, the east and west wings stretching far into the distance and giving off an even greater sense of grandeur. The path curves around a circular garden, richly planted with various kinds of flowers, in which a fountain is spewing water high into the air. Perched upon the fountain in a statue, a stone figure of the Greek god Poseidon, holding a Trident and gazing into the waters as if searching for something; or perhaps he is longing for something unacquirable.
I know all too well what that feels like.
The rounded space in front of the manor is packed with vehicles, ranging from limousines to expensive Ferraris, taking up every inch of available room.
Marcus parks the car a short distance away from all the others, closer to the main gate, saying he doesn't want to get trapped in the rush of leaving cars later on. I nod my head, silently agreeing.
I am about to open the passenger side door when a hand around my wrist stops me.
"Tori."
I look over my shoulder, raising a questioning brow at him.
He opens his mouth, about to say something, but seems to change his mind, a conflicted look passing across his face.
"What is it?" My voice breaks the silence hanging between us.
"I..-" He pauses, scrunching his eyebrows for a split second before his frown morphs into a warm smile. "You look nice today, Tori."
I glance down at my floor length black evening dress, finding nothing particularly stunning about my appearance. I chose to use a minimal amount of makeup, covering the dark circles around my eyes and giving my lips a fuller look. Though I suppose the gentle waves in my dark brown hair are something rather unusual for me.
"Thank you." I say, even though I know my smile isn't reaching my eyes.
He nods, seeming satisfied with my answer.
We step out onto the gravel and start making our way past the many cars, careful not to touch them - the building in front of us is filled with the most pompous people in this town, no one would want a dispute over a car alarm going off .
I shiver slightly in the cool evening air as we climb the large stone steps, quickly entering through the already open doors.
Almost at once I'm enveloped with the buzz of conversation, the air turning thicker as people crowd around buffet tables, chatting and laughing over the soft music. My eyes sweep the spacious hall, taking in the many elaborately dressed people. Women wearing dresses of all colours, shapes and sizes, while men wear black or navy blue suits. I notice some couples are even matching in colour.
Marcus nudges my side and my gaze is drawn to someone pushing through the crowd. I cringe as Dr. Smith draws nearer, the angry line between his eyes becoming prominent as he tries to hide his annoyance.
"You're late." His voice hisses, drawing some attention from the people around us. "You were supposed to be here early, receiving guests."
"I'm sorry-"
"We were caught in traffic." I raise a brow at Marcus' lie but decide not to contradict him. God knows how long my Uncle would spew his anger if we had no legitimate reason for being late.
Dr. Smith raises an eyebrow but seems to dismiss the subject with a tired sigh. "Yeah, well. I need to prepare my speech and you," he points at Marcus, "make yourself useful. It's not every day that important people like these take interest in our hospital."
With that Dr. Smith turns and leaves, soon merging in the dense crowds.
I glance at Marcus who is looking awfully amused at this whole situation. "You heard him, I'm needed for important conversations with rich snobs."
A gasp escapes my mouth as I quickly cover my smile with one hand, pushing the laughing fool into the crowd with the other.
He knows very well that we can't make remarks like this, at least not around others. But a part of me has to agree with him, the very way these people hold their glasses of expensive beverages screams arrogance. I only come here because they support the hospital.
I'm still smiling, looking for a safe place to stand and observe, when a squeal rips through the air. Before I can react, a small body crashes into mine, making me stumble back a few steps.
"Oh my gosh, you came!" Sam practically screams into my ear. I wince but can't contain the bubble of laughter in my chest. "I thought you abandoned me."
"Never," I detach her arms from around my neck and take a step back. "You know I always come, even if I'm late."
I notice she isn't wearing a dress, instead having decided on flowy pants and a crop top.
Typical Sam.
She smiles at that, gently nudging her elbow into my ribcage. "I know, you love looking at these fine men--"
"Don't even think about finishing that sentence."
She bursts into laughter again and I scowl at her blatant amusement. I'm about to wipe that smile off her face, using methods which I'd rather not discuss, when my eye catches something in the crowd.
A mob of dark brown hair.
Usually this would not have piqued my interests, were it not for the all too familiar face accompanying it.
Sapphire blue eyes glint in the light of the chandelier.
Rico.
It is, without a doubt, the strange man who had knocked at my front door, collected his wounded friend.
I can't contain the scowl that tugs at my mouth, begging to break free and show that man just how much his presence annoys me.
Surely he isn't here because of me. It's simply a coincidence.
Keep telling yourself that, Victoria.
....
continuing in the next chap :)