Allison's POV
I'm shaking in my seat. Apart from the fact that this is the first time I'm outside and in a hospital, it is because I am consumed by guilt. Wringing my hands together like some psychotic misfit, my father has barely looked at me since we got here. He's been pacing from one point to the other in the waiting room, just outside the ICU my mom has been rushed into. Perhaps he blames me as much as I blame myself for fighting back against my mother. I wish I hadn't, now look what I've done.
I'm perspiring, the voices around me torturing my sanity, too many voices, too many perfumes, too many feet dragging against the tiled floors. Too many, everything... Tears form in my eyes, blurry my gaze as I imagine the worst, most especially the hate and rejection that will follow afterwards. My father will hate me forever because I know how much he loves my mom. Sometimes I wonder if he loves her more than he loves me.
"Are you okay?" His voice soothes my ears, allowing me to now concentrate on him.
I nod passionately. "Dad I'm so sorr..." He hold a hand up to stop me.
"No. It's not your fault." Yet his eyes say differently, I know he blames me.
God I hope my mommy does not die, I don't know what I'll do if she does.
The young lady doctor that had rushed my mom into the ICU with other nurses, walks out of that same room with her stethoscope around her neck, and a frown on her face. Automatically, my worry heightens, hope dissipating to my gaze. My dad and I rush to her with anticipation.
"How's she!?" My dad barks at the lady, his eyes burgeoned to the point I think they might pop.
"Errm... She has been diagnosed with cancer of the lungs. The cancer has spread to her liver and it's in stage 3. I'm so sorry, but I think she knew about it, because she wasn't at all surprised about the news."
My lips are quivering, my dad's hands are already on his head, his mouth open wide and tears instantly rolling down his eyes.
"Fuck!" He swears, and my dad never swears, I don't think I've ever heard him swear.
As for me, I'm too shocked to even make a sound. I'm conserving my energy, as a single sound from me might take me down to the ground.
"I'm very sorry, sir. She can start chemotherapy if we receive payment for her treatments as soon as possible. There's about a fifty percent chance of responding well to treatment, given her current stage." The doctor informs us hopefully, but her news seems to worry my dad even more.
"How much?" He asks, not exactly sure what to expect.
"A hundred thousand dollars..." she replies.
My dad starts to cough. I'd say something is in his throat, except that I'm convinced it's the effect of the money mentioned. It's quite obvious we don't have that much; we probably used all our money to move and settle down in new states and countries. Thanks to my mom.
"Can you guys start the treatment while I go scout for the money?" he pleads, but the doctor shakes her head.
"Do you have health insurance?" she asks with a creased forehead.
Frank gives me a disturbed glance and shakes his head at the doctor.
"Then I'm sorry, you'll have to get the money before we prep her."
I've never seen my father so defeated, though I can tell that his mind is spinning with several ideas on how to get the money.
"I'll get the money." He promises the doctor firmly, his resolve scaring me a little bit. "Allison? Let's go home."
"Errrm can... Can I stay with her?" I propose with a shaky voice, hoping he says yes.
"No! She never wanted you outside. It's not safe." He mutters and pulls me by the arm, all the way to his car.
We get home late at night, where he completely ignores and and locks himself in his bedroom, screaming and breaking stuff. I'm scared, hands wrapped around my knees as I sob uncontrollably, blaming myself for this moment. I should have kept my hands to myself if I had known she was that vulnerable.
It is in this moment I decide to myself that I will find me a job, one to assist my father. I want to be useful, I want to try to right my wrongs.
With that resolve, I head downstairs to his room, each step heavy and uncertain. I swallow with trepidation as I reach his bedroom door, wondering if this is the right decision I'm making. I fold a fist, about to knock on the door, when the door flings open violently. My father's scowl is fixed upon me.
He is dressed up, if I didn't know him, I'd call him a gangster, as he is dressed like one. He is even wearing a wig, and a t-shirt. The man I have known with my life never wears anything other than long sleeves. I think now I know why, he has tattoos covering both arms, scary tattoos that makes me confused and a little careful. Who is my father? And where the hell is he going dressed like this?
He is surprised too, I'm certain he did not expect me to be at his door, yet he tries to act normal, me too, pretending not to notice his novel appearance. "Why are you here?" He asks me calmly, a tint of self disappointment in his gaze.
I have forgotten everything I had to say, so I throw back a question instead. "To see if you're okay. And where are you headed? Would you like me to come along...?"
"Come along." He scoffs out the words like they sound too hilarious and unbelievable, causing me to feel wretched. "Go back to your room. I don't have time for this. I'm trying to save your mother here." He blows me off completely, shattering my heart to pieces. At this point, I just want to run away from home.
"Good luck... Dad."
I rush back to my room to cry, my comfort abode. I listen also as his feet thuds against the floor, followed by the main door to the house opening and closing with a bang, and a click that follows twice. He's locks me inside, perfect. Also perfect that I now remember what I had gone to ask him about. Getting a job to support mommy's bills. Except apparently, he doesn't care.
I sniff deeply and pick up one of my novels, at least I can find solace in one the characters. I try not to choose romance, but the best way to distract myself is to let my mind be sucked deeply into its own creative imagination. I start reading from where I stopped, a deeply erotic scene that instantly gets me so wet as I replace the character in the story with myself. My toxic handsome too good to be true Prince, breaking into the house to make sweet love to me and punishing my parents for having treated me so badly.
Okay, maybe not punish my parents, but at least to quelch the throbbing in-between my thighs. I'm tired of being a virgin. They're so many I want to do to my male character, like getting him so hard to the point of explosion and leaving him with need. Then I want to be tortured by him too, and most importantly, be his weakness. He should be a bad boy, a nightmare to others, and I his queen that he adores.
"Awww..." I slide my index finger into my panties and rub my clitoris, round and round, then around my labia, a circular motion that feels good but not satisfying. I want his hands there, then I want them inside me.
I bite my bottom lip as I read even further about this character, as he wants me, as he tastes me and moans because he loves my scent and taste. He can't get enough of me.
"I want you too..." I moan softly, somehow grateful that I'm all alone in the house. I try to to fit my index finger deep into my moist flower, only to wince with how tight it is. Damn... It's so embarrassing. I wonder how disappointing I'll be to whoever takes my virginity.
I hear a creak downstairs, no, a click, a double click. My dad must be back, I hide the book underneath my pillow, pull my vintage sleeping gown down, and my duvet over my head in embarrassment. He will disown me if he finds out about my methods of distractions. Actually, only my mom knows the true content of the novels I read, because she bought them for me, and some other historical novels. As for my dad, different versions of the bible.
I pull out one of the bibles, and open a page, allowing it to seat on my nightstand. Just incase he visits my room and gives me a goodnight kiss on my forehead like he always did before tonight.
I hide back under the duvet, nightstand lamp off, and my hearing antennas raised. A frown graces my features as I try to comprehend the footsteps I'm hearing, yes, footsteps, not one nor two, nor three. If I'm right, the people in my house should be around five men.
Instantly I pull the duvet from over my head, alarmed at what might be happening. Are we about to get robbed? Is this the day of reckoning my mom told me to prepare for? I tiptoe to my door, hoping to hear clearly what the intruders are saying or doing.
"My brother must not know about this break in..."
"But there's no one in the house sir."
"There are just two rooms, and aha... I see a door upstairs."
My heart stops working, as I feel the sickening thud will expose me. I'm leaning on the door with my back to it and my hands on my stomach, I look around the room for the right place to hide. Then I choose my closet, rushing into the darkness and shutting the doors silently.
"Did you hear that?" One of the voices ask.
"Hear what? Wait you think there's someone in the house?"
"Let's check upstairs..." Footsteps flood upstairs, making me almost throw up with reality bursting through my body. This is really happening, my mom was right, we have always been in danger. Now my heart is beating, about to burst.
I know they are about to open the door, and if they are very thorough with their search, they will find me. I even hold my breath, hoping this nightmare will pass over.
That why I hear a buzz, a vibration. It has to be their cellphone I think.
"Brother... Hi. What!? Seriously... We are on our way."
And with that miracle phone call, I hear the voices and footsteps receding, along the opening and closing of the main door, and two clicks. I've been locked in again. But how did they get a key?