Sorrow In Her Scars

Chapter 29- Azrael

I sigh, watching from my hospital room as nurses and doctors run back and forth through the halls, trying to get to different patients. I sit crisscross applesauce on the floor; mindful of my wound, not even bothering to get up from falling earlier. I was bored and I wanted to walk around but ended up busting my ass in the process of it.

I didn't bother calling for help as I was to busy watching everyone else from down here. It was weird how different everyone's lives were. A doctor in this hospital could be just like me. They can be depressed or going through something at home. Or maybe everything at home is okay and they're just sad.

Everyone hides their pain differently.

My wandering thoughts are cut off by someone's figure blocking the door. I frown raising my eyes up away from their feet to see who it is, only to rear back in shock. I feel my heart beat against my chest rapidly as I stare into those familiar eyes, "Papá?" I breathe, watching as he enters the room slowly.

He smiles so wide, I fear his face might break. His eyes brim with tears, "What are you doing on the floor?" He asks, reaching out to pick me up before placing me on the bed.

I last about five seconds before I'm flying into his arms and holding onto him for dear life. I feel his hiss, "Careful." He demands, "You're going to open your stitches." He sighs, giving in as he wraps his arms around me, returning the hug. I feel him leaving a gentle kiss on the side of my head as he breathes my scent in.

My wound burns but I ignore it, burying my face into the crook of his neck, "I missed you." Tightening my arms around his neck when he tries to pull back.

"Oh, mija." He whispers, running his fingers through my curls, "I've missed you everyday. If I had knew what was happening, I would've tried harder to come back." He tells me, "If I was here, none of this would have happened." He growls under his breath, finally pulling back when I loosen my hold.

"I know." I swallow thickly.

He cups my face, "I'm so proud of you." He tells me, forcing me to look at him when I look away at his words, "You took care of your brother despite yourself. You pushed through and you didn't give up." He says, fiercely. "You're alive and your breathing but I am so damn angry that you would put yourself in such a dangerous position."

I glare down at my hands, "I don't need a lecture."

He laughs under his breath, "Still have that damn attitude, huh? I was hoping you'd grow out of it." He had no idea. "I'm not lecturing you, I'm talking to you so that we can avoid a hospital trip in the future." He tells me and I'm reminded of him drilling it into my skull as a kid.

Communication is key. He'd say, Talk to me. Tell me what's wrong so we can try to fix it. He'd sit me down and just wait until I was ready to talk.