The Hospital Incident

~Amelia's POV~

The smell of street food and the murmur of people filled the air as Sophie and I took a walk down the busy sidewalks. She walked a little in front of me, and her energy pulled me along.

"Amelia, look at this!" Sophie tugged at my hand, pointing to a glittering display of handbags in a boutique window.

I smiled, Sophie had always been fascinated with anything that glittered, and somewhat it became contagious too. "You already have five like these," I teased.

"Not like this one," she shot back quickly and with a dancing grin on her face. "Come, help me in choosing one!"

We entered, and the odor of thick leather and perfume whiffed inside our nostrils instantaneously. Sophie reached out to the shelves and kept holding bag after bag.

"What do you think? This one, or-" Her voice cut abruptly.

I whirled, alarm spiking at the change in a second, Sophie stood frozen, her face pale white, clutching a hand on her stomach.

"Sophie?" I took one step closer, my voice was tight.

She swayed, her grasping hand reaching for a display near her. "Don't feel good," she mumbled, slurring the words.

The fear clutched in my chest. "What's wrong? Tell me."

Her knees buckled then, and I caught her just before she hit the ground. Her face sweated, her breathing shallow, uneven.

"It-it hurts," she whispered, strained, her voice barely audible.

I held her tightly, feeling her tremble as I said, "We're going to the hospital. Right now."

I got only a slight nod for an answer. My heart beating hard, I took her out and hailed frantically for a taxi.

"Please, hurry!" I implored as we climbed on board.

It felt like forever was all the ride took. Sophie leaned against me hard, still clutching at her stomach with those little whimpers slipping out. I turned my head toward her again and again, the weight of foreboding tying itself off tighter and tighter in my chest.

"You're going to be alright," I whispered, brushing soothingly at her hair. I was trying to calm myself a lot more than her.

By the time we reached the hospital, I was practically dragging her toward the emergency entrance. In an instant, nurses appeared beside us.

"She's in pain stomach-it started suddenly," I stammered, not quite able to form a coherent sentence.

A nurse nodded calmly, professional in contrast with my panic. "We'll take care of her."

They finally strapped Sophie onto a stretcher and wheeled her off. I was pretty stuck in place. My hands were shaking, and my breath came in short catches as the enormity of what had taken place settled upon me.

That Sophie, my best friend for nearly five years, was beyond one of those doors and that there was nothing I could do to help her, was just a little too much.

Minutes felt like hours in that waiting room. Nothing was comforting about the cold plastic chair beneath me. In my mind, I had been running worst-case scenarios around in circles.

I finally summoned the energy to reach for my phone and dial the number of Sophie's mom. For a few seconds, my fingers hovered above the screen as dread was gathering in my stomach.

It rang twice before she answered. "Hello?”

“Mrs. Lawrence, it's Amelia,” I said and started shaking. I took a deep breath and continued “It's Sophie. We're at the hospital. She wasn't feeling well, and-

“What happened to her?” Her mother's voice cut through the line with fear.

“She just…she collapsed. The doctors are with her now.”

There was silence, before Mrs. Lawrence just repeated, "We're on our way.”

The line fell dead, and I stared at the screen for a moment before I let the phone fall into my lap.

When finally Sophie's parents arrived, I rose to greet them, but Mrs. Lawrence had a storm of anger in her face.

"What have you done to her?" she said, as her voice was already on the rise.

My mouth opened, but nothing came out.

"If you hadn't dragged her out shopping, this wouldn't have happened!" she snarled, stepping closer.

My eyes welled, and my stomach twisted with guilt as I felt my eyes. "I'm so sorry," I whispered, hanging my head low. "I didn't know this would happen-"

"You didn't know?" she interrupted me, so surprised. "You should have known! You're her best friend! How could you let her get this sick?”

Her words cut, and I found myself apologizing over and over again, my voice breaking. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean for this to happen. I—"

"Stop apologizing!" Mrs. Lawrence spat. "This is your fault, and you—"

A firm hand on my shoulder stalled me mid-apology. That touch of warmth startled me, and I turned to see who was behind me.

Collins.

He stood behind me, towering over me with his frame, his white coat making him appear like something from a dream or a nightmare. I felt my breath catch in my throat meeting his eyes, he also had this calm, commanding expression on his face.

"Why blame her?" Collins asked; his voice was deep, like a knife against a knife of tension.

Mrs. Lawrence turned to him, anger faltering under the intense, piercing gaze he gave. "She's the reason my daughter's here-"

"And blaming her is going to help how?" Collins smoothly cut in, stepping forward. "Your daughter needs support right now, not pointless accusations."

Mrs. Lawrence stuttered; whatever confidence she had was gone.

"Amelia brought your daughter here. She acted quickly, and due to her, she is getting the treatment she needs," Collins finished, with no censure in his tone. "If you want to be angry, be angry at the situation— but don't vent this on the person who has just helped your daughter."

The room was quiet. Mrs. Lawrence turned away, compressing her lips into an anorexic line.

Collins turned to me then, his face softening. "Amelia," he said, low and intent. "Are you all right?”

I nodded, though my shaking hands gave me away.

"You don't look okay," he said, taking my wrist in a firm but gentle grip to check my pulse. I couldn't pull away.

"I'm fine," I muttered, not at all convincing.

Collins frowned. Silent, he shrugged off his white coat and laid it over my shoulders. The material was still warm, carrying the faintest scent of his cologne.

"You're pale," he said matter-of-factly.

And with that, he whisked me away from Sophie's parents, the light pressure of his hand on my lower back leading the way.

"Where are we going?" I asked, barely audible.

"You need to take care of yourself," he replied.

We stopped outside the bathroom, and opening the door, he coaxed me inside.

"Clean up," he ordered. In the firm-but tone, there sounded a thread of tenderness continuing with a firm reprimand: "Don't you know when you're on your period to make it clear either?!"

His words landed on me like a full punch. My cheeks flared as wide-eyed as I stared at him.

"Hahhh! "

The exclamation escaped through before I could stop it.