Page 132 of Eyes Like Angel
And the door slammed shut.
From Eva’s wincing pain, I simmered her inflictions with a stroke, my voice lowered her as I stroke each within my fingertips chilled her; goosebumps scaled onto her sickly and bruised flesh. Soon, Eva’s high-strung alarm dwindled and her body sank deeper in a hospital mattress.
“Get some rest, Eva. You deserve this,” my voice quieted.
She did what I said and lulled her pain to sleep.
Once I gave a soft kiss planted on her cheek, trailing it down to her chapped lips, tasting her one last time before heading out, revealing Marceline sat and waited outside the lobby, crouch her spine forward, her hands cupped over her head now spotted me marching like a total maniac as I shut the door. She immediately stood, embracing me, her body tensed up in vibration. “Thank god you’re here. I got here as soon as I could.”
In return, my arms stretched out to entangle the embrace.
“Talking to a doctor was a nightmare,” I told her, the sore lumped in my throat, dried and cracked, my breath drawn to a near whisper.
“What did he say?” Marceline pulled back, anticipating at my explanation, but I couldn’t due to my passionate kiss I shared with Eva, who was alive and well, and she was smiling at me.Even now, she cared about my safety it nearly made me tear up on the spot, but I chose not to have her worry over my current sensitivity.
“He said that she’s going to be fine,” I answered airily. “She’ll need a long recovery.”
“How long?”
“Her recovery might take long,” I answered, perturbed at the doctor’s previous explanation. “Probably a month, depending on her bruises and wounds she has.”
The paused prolonged between Marceline and I.
“Marcy, I’m scared shitless,” I began, shivering at the air condition. “My mind can’t stop replaying about this ordeal. When I see her like this, seeing her felt like I’m seeing and approaching a lifelike doll inclining on a rocking chair at night or something. Or one of those dead people laying inside coffins, looking at her through the coffin glass. Or a waxed figure enclosed at a displayed glass at the museum. Doesn’t she remind you of a life-size waxed doll, waiting for it to wake up?”
Marceline’s tiring features contorted, but quick on returning back to its usual stoic expression. “Dude, you can’t be serious,” her voice was shaky.
“I am,” I replied. “I swear, I can’t stop thinking about how everything went wrong, especially for her. I worry she might pass away or something. I’m not good at talking to someone who’s resting on a hospital bed. Hospitals weren’t my thing.”
Back then, Dad would insist that I should become as a doctor, since I failed to claim my victories as an expert individual from sports category. Dad had the medical textbooks bought for me, but I threw some in the fire, to keep me warm, and some I donated and got cash, but got beaten after Dad discovered what I was doing. I only kept one book, one remaining book on my shelf, and it’s the human anatomy and bodily fluids, not for saving someone’s life but to leverage my dangerous strategiesto an upper scale by studying and selling organs at the black market. Black market is where I earned most profit than a pitiful allowance handed by him. Since then, I wasn’t particularity fond over anything that bores me from a pitiful result.
Staring at Eva’s sleeping form, I was glad I didn’t choose a doctor career—hefty payment, but shitty long-term, surrounded by pretentious co-workers who kisses ass and bullied someone’s misery. The operation might go wrong if it’s under my care.
Killing and harming others to danger, jeopardizing my life was easier.
“Still, you can’t talk creepy shit like that,” Marcy protested, slapping my arm. “She’s still alive and breathing and she’s not in a freaking coffin!”
My shoulders flinched at Marceline’s protest. Whenever she protest or objectify, she’s unstoppable, angry as a hot pot.
A few nurses watched us afar as Marceline signaled them that everything’s peachy.
“But it’s true,” I protested.
She slapped across my bicep as she said, “Stop saying weird, creepy shit like that, you might freak out some people here. They’ll even believe you watch the most heinous crime documentaries as your hobby.”
Rolling my eyes at her motherly display, I withered.
“I know, but, it felt like I’m stuck in a morgue,” I explained, scratching at the back of my head. “I think I’m about to go crazy likeAlice in Wonderland.”
“This is a hospital, not a morgue or an asylum,” she reminded, cautioned regarding to my next words spewing out. “Not even a video game you always play.”
I snorted. “I know.”
My head shaken, lowering it down that my locks swayed, not wanting to see the hospital floor.
Marceline soothed me by stroking my forearm. “Don’t think like that, okay? She’s going to be fine. She’ll get better.”
Not according to Eva’s severely tragic condition. Ribs protruding, her stomach hollow, her cheekbones sallow, pale skin melded in fresh and old wounds scarred her, beaten down to God knows what.
