Chapter 37 Ch. 24
The hospital smelt like it had been bathed in disinfectant.
Zara lay on the thin, crinkling sheets of the hospital bed, a greasy line of sweat sliding down the side of her face. Her back ached from the way she lying down and she was wondering why hospital bed weren't more comfortable.
Her chest continued to thump. The light above hummed softly, its fluorescent light feeling to bright for her eyes.
A nurse in a blue scrub walked around the room, checking, writing on a clipboard, tapping at a tablet. Her feet made soft noises on the floor but she spoke not a word. Neither did Zara— her eyes just flitted towards the nurse and then her dad every now and then.
She was too tired to ask questions on how she had gotten to the hospital. The last thing she remembered was confronting Ethan.
Every thing was too muddled up in her brain to make sense and she felt too sick to struggle, especially with the IV now lying like a lifeline in her arm.
Her father sat beside her bed, his hands clasped tightly in front of him, elbows on his knees. Every now and then, he glanced at her, opened his mouth as if to say something, and then closed it. His collar was crooked and his forehead glistened with sweat. He had not asked her what happened or spoken to her since she had opened her eyes.
A doctor came in with a clipboard. Gray hair around the edges of his face. He was obviously middle-aged, and too cheerful for Zara's liking.
"How are you feeling darling?" He asked in a British accent, lifting an eyebrow at her. "Refreshed or sick?"
Zara blinked at him twice and fought a scoff.
The doctor sighed and then turned to her dad. “We’ve run a number of tests,” he said, flipping through a few pages like he wasn’t already sure of what was inside. “Blood work, scans, vitals. There’s nothing concerning, medically speaking. No signs of something wrong with her lungs or heart, infection, no allergic reactions. Her vitals stabilized the minute she lay down.”
Her dad furrowed his brow. “So… what does that mean?”
The doctor frowned. "Well, we believe the symptoms are stress-related. Perhaps psychosomatic. It's not at all uncommon in teenagers, especially those with a great deal of stress. Chest pain, nausea, dizziness… all classic signs of acute anxiety."
Zara stared at the ceiling tiles. They were small and square. One had a brown water stain spreading out like a dying flower.
"So much for a hygienic hospital,"she muttered to herself.
"She's had a lot going on lately?" the doctor asked softly.
Her dad hesitated. "She hasn't said anything."
"Sometimes they don't. But these kinds of episodes… they don't just materialize out of nowhere."
Zara turned her head to the side, her voice gruff. "You're telling me this is all in my head?" She shook her head and laughed.
"No," answered the doctor. "I'm saying your body might be trying to say something to you that your mind doesn't want to listen to."
She swallowed hard. Her throat felt sore and her tongue felt heavy. She didn’t believe him because no amount of “stress” explained the way her chest was feeling.
"Well, maybe she's just stressed about her race in two days," coach Santiago said.
“Maybe, but if this doesn’t improve in the next few days,” the doctor added, “I’d recommend speaking to a psychiatrist. Just to explore whether there’s a deeper root to this.”
Her father grunted slowly.
The doctor smiled, a professional smile. "Try to rest, okay?"
She didn't respond.
When the doctor left, her father got up, stretched, and growled something about requiring coffee. He patted her shoulder as he passed by her, uncertainly.
The room was silent after that. There was only the hum of the AC and the sporadic beep of the machines.
Zara slowly sat up, wincing. Her chest no longer hurt as much, but her stomach grumbled unpleasantly and the pain in her head was still too intense. But what was the point d making any complaints when the doctor said nothing was wrong.
A soft knock at the door made her eyes flick towards it.
It cracked open and Ethan stepped inside, a bag slung over his shoulder. His head was tilted slightly, his dark hair slightly wet along the edges as if he'd been outside or had sweated. He still had on the same clothes he'd had on initially. His face was flat—somewhere between concern and guilt.
"Hey."
Her gaze narrowed.
"I uh... Was going to follow but school didn't allow it, so I decided to come afterwards."
He looked nervous, his fingers tapping the side of his pants nervously. It was almost unnoticeable but Zara did. He shifted on his foot and cleared his throat, swallowing hard. "You okay?" he asked, his voice quieter than usual.
She turned her face again swallowing a bitter something that had nothing to do with illness. "Are you here to finish the job?"
"What?" He asked, blinking at her— quite confused as to what she meant.
She glared at him, clenched teeth. "To kill me. Are you here to finish what you started?"
Ethan looked at her like she'd just said something in a language he was unfamiliar with. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said.
She didn't blink. "I think you do."
He stepped closer. "Zara… I promise... I have nothing to do with this."
"Of course you'd say that," she scoffed, rolling her eyes.
The sound of footsteps in the hallway and her father's voice made Ethan to step away.
"I hope you feel better," he said, turning away from her. He paused as his hand came in contact with the door knob. "Goodluck on our race."
Her dad walked back into the room with his phone in one hand and the car keys in the other— nearly bumping into Ethan.
They spoke for a bit, coach Santiago thanking him for checking him, before Ethan finally left and her father moved further into the room.
“The doctor said you’re free to go now.”
Zara nodded.
She pulled the blanket off her legs, moved slowly, and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her socks dragged against the cold tile floor. She stood up without looking at him, and he didn’t say anything else. He simply watched as she pulled on her sneakers.
They walked out of the hospital together, the squeak of her sneakers the only sound between them.
Outside, the sun was still bright, but not warm.
Her dad walked ahead of her a little and unlocked the car with the button on his key. He reached for the passenger door, pulling it open like he always did, but Zara didn’t stop. She kept walking and went to the back seat instead, pulling the door open and sliding in without a word.
Her dad looked over his shoulder at her.
He didn’t say anything right away. Just stood there, then finally let out a small sigh, closed the passenger door, and walked over to the driver’s side.
He started the car. Then he turned toward her. “I thought you liked sitting in the passenger seat.”
Zara didn’t answer, instead just shrugged.
The street rolled by quietly as he drove, people walking in and out of stores, some kids crossing the road in groups. Zara rested her head against the window and looked outside.
Her dad glanced at her once. “With this… will you still be able to run your race in two days?”
She didn’t turn to him briefly and she shrugged again.
“Zara,” he said. “Just give me a response.”
She stayed quiet as if her goal was to frustrate him some more.
He nodded. “You know if you miss this first race, you won’t be able to compete for the rest of the season. This is different from Ethan. He's actually meant to be in recovery phase since the nationals... he's just doing local competitions and interschool stuff for now... You... This is your season, you know that right?"
“Yeah, whatever.”
Her dad was quiet for a second. “So you’re really not interested anymore. You’re throwing it all away. Your state championship? I thought the goal last year was to be a national champion? You literally cried when you were fourth in the nationals last—"
“I literally just got out of the hospital,” she said. “Can you not?”
He sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“Hmm. Okay.”
They didn’t talk for the rest of the ride. When they got home, her dad pulled into the driveway and parked the car but he didn’t turn the engine off.
“I have to coach some kids this afternoon,” he said. “I just came to drop you off. You gonna be fine on your own?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded. “In my room, on the dresser, there’s a brown wallet. There’s some cash inside. You can order something if you want... Since you probably can't cook and.. you may not want to eat toast or cereal... Um... Get Chinese maybe... Or pizza."
“Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”
She got out of the car and walked toward the front door without looking back. When she reached the top of the stairs, she opened the door to her room and stopped.
Noah was sitting on her bed, legs stretched out, his back against her headboard. He was playing a game on his phone, the sound low but she knew it was probably call of duty from the sounds of gum firing she could hear. The screen was glowing against his face.
“Oh,” she said. “Hi.”
“Hey,” he responded without looking at his phone. His eyebrows furrowing in concentration for a long while followed by a repetitive gun sound, and then a punch to the air in victory. "YESSSSS!"
She dropped her bag by the door and leaned against the wall, rolling her eyes. "I didn't expect you to be here."
“I saw Ethan,” he said, locking his phone. “He said there was no point coming to the hospital, so I just figured I’d wait here."
She nodded. “Okay. Nice.”
"How are you?"
"I'm okay," she shrugged, walking over to sit at the edge of the bed.
"Your mood has been... Off?"
Noah tilted his head a little. “Is this seriously about the whole vampire thing?”
She didn’t answer.
He sat up straighter. “Zara, you’re not… you’re not the same. You’re not even talking to me like you used to.”
She folded her arms. “I’m just tired.”
"Come here," he said, tugging her closer to him. "What's wrong?"
"I'm fi—"
"Hush," he said, placing a finger on her lips.
"I'm fine, I promise," she lied. There was no way in hell she was going to mention anything to do with Ethan or vampires ever.