Elke seconde telt // Every second counts (FanFiction)

Chapter 7

Monday November 1, 2021, 7:57

I am sitting at the kitchen table with my parents, enjoying a peaceful morning on this day off. The smell of freshly baked bread and coffee fills the air. I feel happy. Breakfast is my favourite time of the day, especially when we are all together. It doesn't happen very often that we all have breakfast together at the same time. With the hustle and bustle of daily life and my father working in shifts, these moments are very rare. But today we all have a day off and I cherish this precious time with both my parents.

I look at my mum on the other side of the table, her smile is shining in the soft morning sunlight. Her eyes sparkle as she talks to my dad. I see the love between my parents glowing. It's heartwarming to see how they complete each other, how the little gestures of affection and glances of understanding between them say so much more than words alone. They are the living example of true love. I hope one day to experience the same love.

Suddenly my father's phone rings. He looks at the screen and frowns. "It's work," he mumbles as he gets up from his chair, "I have to go to the factory for an urgent issue that needs to be resolved."

My heart sinks. A heavy disappointment washes over me. It's our day off, and we had planned to make music together. I was looking forward to spending some time with my father today. I look at him pleadingly, "But Dad, you promised we would go to the studio today." He puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder and smiles weakly. "I know, darling, and I promise we will as soon as I'm back. I'm really sorry, but this is really urgent," he says. I nod slowly. His work is important and sometimes unexpected things come up. I know that. But it's hard to hide my disappointment. I hug him before he leaves, hoping he'll be home soon.

Monday, November 1, 2021, 11:21

I am standing next to my mum in the kitchen, enjoying the delicious smells coming from the pots on the stove. We're busy preparing our lunch, our hands moving in sync as we cook together to some good music.

Suddenly the cosy atmosphere is disturbed by the sharp ring of the house telephone. My mother hesitates for a moment as she looks down at the phone in her hand. Who could need us now? Worry wrinkles her face as she answers the phone, her voice shaking as she speaks to the person on the other end of the line. A knot forms in my stomach, something feels wrong. What's going on? My mother turns to me, her eyes wide with shock and fear. "It's the police," she whispers, "Dad's been in a car accident.

Panic grips me as my mother hangs up the phone and hurriedly grabs her car keys from the kitchen table. Without a word, we run to the car together, our hands shaking as we open the doors and get in. The motor roars as my mother starts the car and presses down hard on the gas pedal. The drive to the hospital seems to take forever, every second filled with unbearable fear and uncertainty. My mother drives with determination, her knobby hands gripping the wheel tightly as she navigates the traffic. The road is extremely foggy, making it impossible to drive at maximum speed. The roads are really dangerous.

At the hospital, we sprint into the huge entrance hall and head straight for the emergency reception, our footsteps hollow and fast on the polished cement floor. My heart is racing in my throat. With our voices hoarse from fear, we ask for my father. But before we could get an answer, a doctor comes out of what looks like an operating room, his face pale and serious. He approaches us and asks, "Are you Philippe De Bruyn's family?" We nod, full of tension. My mother takes my hand, her fingers clammy and trembling, as we look at the doctor, our breath caught in fear. The doctor sighs and hesitates, "Uhm... I have bad news. Philippe has had a serious accident. He's had several internal bleedings... there's nothing we can do for him. We tried to resuscitate him, but it was in vain. He died. I'm so sorry," he explains quietly. His words hit me like a cold knife in my heart. My world seems to fall apart. My father? It can't be! "You're lying! It can't be true! You're lying!" I scream in panic. I run to the door of the operating room. Through a small window I can see a patient lying there, who seems to have my father's figure. I knock on the door and shout "Dad! Dad!", hoping he will wake up and walk over to me. I'm completely beside myself. My mum comes to me, her eyes red and full of tears, she hugs me, "Calm down, Bobbie, calm down," she says as she holds me tight and runs her fingers through my hair. I can't believe it. My dad... Just this morning at our breakfast table and now lying lifeless on the table in the operating room. I burst into tears.