If I could take her pain, I would. She remained at the door, her gaze roving around the room till they rested on Novah's corpse. A team of hospital staff clad in white uniforms that hung on their shoulders burst through the door. Two of them were pushing a giant stretcher on which were white cloths. My face contorted at the scene.

"Move aside, sir,"  the blonde man said in a Japanese accent, nodding at me.

Oh, shit. I was still sitting on Novah's bed.

"Sure,"  I mumbled.

They wheeled Novah's corpse away on the stretcher, covered from head to toe in mortuary cloths. The feeling they left behind was empty, dead. The room pulsed with finality, and Isla's last words didn't stop ringing in my head. She told me.

The doctor gestured outside the door, putting on his plastic gloves.

I dipped my hands in both pockets, taking in a deep breath.
"Will they do an autopsy?"

He adjusted his white jacket, then checked his watch.
" Depends on the deceased's family, sir. But in a criminal case such as this one, the hospital may have to produce an autopsy report upon request by the FBI."

I turned to Isla. Her space was empty. Oh shit. Where the fuck did she go? Underneath my shirt, sweat glistened on my skin and trickled down my chest. My head was underwater. Sweat broke out on my forehead, and the room faded into a maze of sky blue and white.

"Isla!" I cried, and dashed out of the door.

The thuds of my boots echoed in the hallway. Two female interns turned to stare.  Where the bloody hell was she? There was nothing else on my mind but her. My feet raced over the tiles. For freaking out loud, where was she? Had she left? Were tears streaming down her face in the fucked up toilet? Was her heart breaking all over again? Where?

There! She was lounging under the willow tree in front of the hospital, rubbing her eyes. She sighed, then crumpled on the grass in a lump. Her breasts spilled out of her tube top. She raised her hands, but it was to run her fingers through her curls.
I strolled towards her, my boots padding on the grass. The moon cast silver beams on every shrub in the field. Wind whooshed past my ears. Floodlights from the hospital poured on the field itself, making out her frame.

"When did she tell you?" I asked, holding my breath.

She buried her face in her palms, hunched over. The temperature outside dropped to fifteen degrees, and a chill set in. She was shivering, and her bottom lip was quivering. Her top rode down her chest. She sniffed, muffling the sound in her palm.

"Isla,"I  breathed, "Look at me."

She raised her head and rubbed her shoulders, letting out a moan.

I was out of my mind. Then I shrugged out of my coat and wrapped it around her shoulders.
"Here, this will keep you warm."

"Thanks," she huffed, fixing her gaze on the hospital building looming ahead.

What was she doing to me? My nerves tensed up from being so close to her when all she did was sit and sniff.

"Look at me. It'll help you," I moaned, tipping up her chin with my forefinger.

My palm warmed under her skin. She turned to stare past me, at the parking lot. What was wrong?
Had I screwed up in more ways than one? Damnit, this girl should talk to me. Her jaw moved, sending chills down my spine.

"Novah was my half-sister,"  she whispered, then buried her face in her palm again. Half-sister. The word blurred in my memory, then came to life again. Half-sister. No fucking way.

When she raised her head, her face was puffed up and bags pooled beneath her eyes.
"Our parents used to shower her with gifts on her every birthday. On my last birthday before__," her voice was breaking.
Should I ask her? I swallowed the lump in my throat and wrung my hands. This was too close. Too personal. All through our years of friendship, Isla didn't reveal this part of her to me. She was testing the waters with me, wanting to see how well I could handle it.

"Will you judge me?" She asked through tears that glistened on her face.

She hugged the coat tightly, resting her back on the tree, waiting.

"Isla__"

"Hmm?"

"Look at me. For Pete's sake, I want you to look me in the eye and tell me what you see", I insisted.

She whispered,"No."

The tears were drying on her face, leaving water streaks behind.
I seized her hand in mine and gave it a squeeze, then raised it to my lips and kissed it. She didn't jerk it away.
"Do you trust me?"

My question hung in the air as her palm hung limp in mine.

"Will you judge me?" she asked back.
The sky was black and endless, void of stars. The moon was peeking at us through the clouds.

"No."

"Before my dad came down with the disease__", she burst into tears again.
So, this was what she had to carry on her shoulders? Did she cry herself to bed every night?

"My dad hated me. He never failed to remind me that, like my mom, I would grow up wrapped around some rich guy's finger, unable to make any decisions for myself. His worst regret was having me, and when I came down with the flu last year, he crept up to my room one night and asked me why I hadn't died yet. I'm hated, Craig. I've been hated all my fucked up life."

I raised my brows and steeled myself for her reaction to my next words.
"I don't believe you, Isla. I think you're lying. Your dad never hated you. You just seek a reason to be a bitch because you love being one. And even if your dad ever showered love on you, you'd still turn out to be a bitch."

A gasp escaped her lips.
"You promised not to judge me. But you have, just like everyone else. I thought you were different. I thought you__ fuck it, I don't even care anymore. Maybe this is how it should be. I'm meant to be a bitch, Craig. I'm a worthless piece of shit."

She handed her heart to me on a platter, and I smashed it like a maniac. She crumpled on the grass, wailing. Then, why did I feel as if she was the one breaking my heart all over again?