Ace placed his head on the steering, and just allowed himself to feel again.
He hated hospitals. Hated the acrid stench of death always hovering in the air. Despised the antiseptic nose clogging smell. Abhorred how sickly even the seemingly healthy ones looked, walking around.
It brought back too many memories. Memories he wished would be buried forever.
A night like this was when he vowed he'd live life as haughtily as a god, and death would be scared of him. He swore no one he cared about would ever be pried from him by the cold hands of the grim reaper. Yet, here he was, over ten years later, in a similar situation.
"But you don't care about her," a tiny voice said, giving him a false sense of hope.
Instead of feeling calm, and reassured, he could only sigh. "I may not care about her, but she's still under my care. Anything happens, and I'm done for," he muttered to himself.
