I cut her off. “Skye. Stop yelling. Gah.”
“Sorry. I’ve just been freaking out all night and haven’t heard a peep from you. You bolted right after that call from your mom saying Belle was in an accident and I didn’t know anything else until the news showed the wreckage and said the drunk fuck died. You had your phone off and so I have no idea what’s happened to Belle and I just want to make sure everything and everyone are ok.”
“I know. Too much is happening right now. A lot is still uncertain. I just tried to process some of it and ended up vomiting next to my car.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Yeah. I — I —” My eyes fill with tears and I choke out the horrifying truth of last night.
“Alex and Sunny were in the car, too.”
“WHAT?!”
“Yeah. They were coming home from dinner and the guy crossed over into their lane and hit them head on.”
“Oh my gosh.”
“Sunny is fine. She got banged up a bit and they kept her overnight, but she seems ok.”
“Thank God. And Belle and Alex?”
I swallow. “Alex — Alex didn’t make it. And Belle is in a coma and hooked up to a bunch of machines.”
Skye lets out a deep breath. “I am so, so sorry, Alis.”
We’re quiet for the next minute. I can’t respond.
“Hey, I’m sorry but I need to go. I need to head home and take a shower and then get back up here.”
“Yeah. Ok. Can I do anything? Do you want me to meet you up there? What about Tori?”
“No. Not right now. And no, I haven’t called Tori. I’ll let you fill her in. The entire situation is overwhelming and I don’t think it’d help anything for you to be here with us. Thanks, though.”
“Definitely.”
“I’ll keep my phone on, but do me a favor?”
“Slow my roll.”
I chuckle. “Yeah. And tell Tori not to text me either. I promise I’ll update you as soon as I know something, OK?”
“Yeah. OK. Love you.”
“Love you.”
The call ends and I sit there for another few minutes, staring blankly out my windshield.
Too bad showerscan’t wash off emotional turmoil. My body is clean and the hot water worked wonders on my headache, but as I step foot back into the hospital every ounce of despair settles right back onto my shoulders. If this nightmare doesn’t end soon I’m going to become a permanent emotional Quasimodo.
It’s nearly 7 p.m. and I haven’t eaten since emptying my stomach in the parking garage around noon, so I swing by the hospital cafeteria to grab sustenance before returning to my sister’s room. I’m not actually hungry but I’m afraid if I don’t eat something I’ll pass out — either from happiness or grief — when we meet with the doctor about Belle’s brain activity.
Chicken? Soup? Burger? Sandwich? Apple? Oreos?Ugh. None of this sounds appealing. Instead I walk over to the coffee shop and order the largest latte available and a croissant. Pastry never hurt anyone after puking. I’m playing it safe.
As I leave the cafeteria and head toward the elevators, I spot my dad waiting in the hall for a lift.
“Hey, dad.” He turns to me as I enter the waiting area and offers me a warm, exhausted smile and a squeeze on my arm.
“Hey kiddo. You look refreshed. Did you take advantage of the hotel shower?”
