Chapter 8 - The Grand Entry
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The heavy oak door to my hospital room swung open with a sharp, arrogant click.
Derek walked in first, wearing his pristine tailored grey suit, his hair neatly combed, his posture brimming with corporate confidence. Right behind him stepped his mother, Brenda, wearing a bright yellow cardigan and holding a plastic-wrapped bouquet of cheap grocery store lilies as if visiting a funeral home.
My father-in-law, Arthur, lingered awkwardly in the doorway, keeping his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets and refusing to meet my eyes.
Derek closed the door firmly behind them and clicked the lock into place. He turned around, scanning the quiet room with a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.
“Well, well,” Derek said, stepping closer to my bed, his voice dripping with condescending pity. “Look at the little runaway. We searched the whole county for you, Abigail, and here you are, playing the victim in a private room.”
Brenda stepped up to the side of my bed, slamming the bouquet of lilies onto my nightstand so hard it knocked over my plastic cup of water.
“You filthy little brat!” Brenda hissed, leaning down until her wrinkled face was inches from mine. Her breath smelled faintly of peppermint and coffee. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve caused us?! Dragging yourself through the dirt like a rabid dog!”
I stayed completely silent, pulling the blanket slightly higher over my chest, keeping my eyes wide and unblinking.
“Look at me when my mother is speaking to you!” Derek barked, snapping his fingers in front of my face.
May you like
I looked up at him, my voice trembling just enough to play the part. “Derek... please. The doctors said I need rest. My leg... they had to put metal pins in it...”
Derek let out a short, mocking laugh, turning to his mother. “Did you hear that, Mom? Metal pins. She thinks a little surgery makes her special.”
