Vincent could not tell how long he had been sitting outside the operating room. He had been caught in his own dark thoughts on the outcome of the operation on April, that he hardly gave a damn about anything right now, but only to know that April was alright.
Would April make it?
Vincent ruffled his hair in annoyance, with this persistent thought, that was singly occupying his brain, over and over again. He was very frustrated that he could not do anything to help April. She was on the brink of death, fighting for her life, right at this very moment, but he could not do anything, but rely on the expertise of the doctor operating on her. All the riches and power that he possessed, were useless for April at this point. It was as if April had her way, of not being dependent on him for anything. Fate had made it this way, that Vincent could not do anything more.
