Vengeance (Burning Beliefs #2)

Chapter Twenty-Six *edited*

SERENA'S POV

God damn, after three months of hangovers, I never thought I'd have to experience one as bad as this.

My eyes sting as they catch the light. I groan into my pillow and try to soak in the warmth from the blankets. I don't know what happened last night, but it must've been hella bad to induce this.

And I just said hella. God save us all.

"What time is it?" I mutter. The taste leftover on my tongue is like acid.

"A little before eight," Dean says, although it doesn't sound like him. He's reserved, tense.

"If we want to get to the hospital before the usual psych ward crowd," my sister says, with half-hearted sarcasm. "We should leave by quarter after."

"Up and adam, Serena," Sam says. His voice is closer.

I flip over and open my eyes dejectedly. He's sitting on the bed next to mine, tying his shoes and staring at the floor. Both him and Dean are dressed in their usual FBI getups.

"Do I have to?"

"You can stay here and drink coffee till you're deaf if that's really what you want," Dean sighs, leaning up against the doorway.

I slam my head back into the pillow.

"Give me ten minutes."

After trudging my way out of the door and into the car, the Impala rumbles along the dusty road towards the hospital. It's close enough that we don't need to drive, but I'm glad that we did. It's nice and cold in here.

Surprisingly, no one talks. Usually Sam is off moping while Dean hums along to Metallica. I expected Gracie to be off on some rant with him, but it's deafeningly silent.

"What's wrong with all of you?" I ask. "Why aren't you talking?"

Gracie stirs from her pensive position staring out the window. Dean readjusts his hands on the steering wheel and Sam clears his throat awkwardly.

"We're just tired from last night. I guess," he says tightly.

"One too many?"

Gracie's eyes shift to mine, but quickly back to the floor when I catch them.

"No, seriously, are you okay?"

"Just leave it," she sighs bitterly. "We're here, anyways."

The walk into the building is as miserable as the ride there. We're all uncomfortable in our little monkey suits, me and Gracie's heels clinking along the pavement like horseshoes, Sam and Dean's ties constantly tugged at, and all of our eyelids drooping. It was either a long night of drinking or a long night of thinking.

We're directed immediately to the little girl's room, where she's waiting patiently. She has long, straight, mouse-brown hair and stormy blue eyes. The white hospital gown is a bit too big for her gaunt frame, and her fingers are gripping the windowsill a bit too tightly.

"Emma, someone's here to see you," the nurse speaks patiently.

The girl turns around, thin-lipped, and smiles a broken smile.

"This is Agent Jagger, Richards, Aguilera, and Lovato," she says. She give us a small smile before retreating back to reception.

All of us manage to squeeze into the room, and I start to think it would've been better if I'd stayed in the room. The girl seems a little overwhelmed.

I shut the door behind us quietly. We all take a seat.

"Hey, Emma," Gracie says warmly.

"What do you want with me?" her voice is cluttered with fear.