Sophie's dad was an unimpressive man. 

Slouched over and balding, he wore ill-fitting clothes that did nothing to hide the beer belly that protruded from his otherwise slender frame. He was the sort of man that most people wouldn't notice walking down the street and, truthfully, I didn't give him a second glance until I heard him ask the waiting room's receptionist where his daughter was.

"She's had a rough night," the woman behind the desk informed him with a sympathetic shake of her head. She motioned at a row of empty chairs. "I believe she's still being evaluated but if you'd care to take a seat, I know her doctors would like to speak with you."

The receptionist's eyebrow twitched upwards when Mr. Winters nodded but didn't move. He wrung his hands with a seemingly frantic urgency. "Do they... Are they aware of her medical history? It--it'll be important that they know."

Lips pursed tightly, the receptionist reached for the phone on her desk. "Let me see if I can get someone out here now."

"Thank you," Mr. Winters said in a voice just above a whisper. Then, he turned and shuffled across the room towards an open seat, lowering himself onto the worn cushion.

Shoulders slumped forward, Mr. Winters seemed defeated as he buried his face into his hands and took deep, shuddering breaths. I knew that I was staring while I tried to decide whether or not to approach him but my internal debate ended abruptly when Mr. Winters looked up and met my gaze. Recognition flashed over his features and, the next thing I knew, he was standing directly in front of me. I got to my feet.

"Excuse me, but you're Parker Jennings, aren't you?" Mr. Winters asked, studying my face. When I nodded, he extended a shaky hand. "Timothy Winters -- or, Tim, if you prefer. Either's fine."

"Nice to meet you," I murmured.

Tim's clammy handshake reminded me of a limp fish and it was painfully obvious that he possessed none of his daughter's confidence; however, as I studied him up close, I began to see their similarities. The sparse hair on his head was a familiar golden color, though grey flecked the remaining wispy strands. His eyes were also the same piercing shade of blue as Sophie's and, although they darted around nervously, it felt like he could see right through me when he spoke.

"I know that it'll mean a lot to Sophie when she sees you here," he said with a small smile.

"I was with her in the ambulance." I paused, unsure of how to phrase what I wanted to say next. Tim looked at me. "I'm worried about her," I admitted in a rush. "Not only because of tonight either."

"I know," Tim said, and his face seemed to sag. "There's something you should probably know but I'm not sure if--"

Before he could finish his thought, a doctor appeared with a clipboard in his hand. "Mr. Winters?"

Tim excused himself and hurried over to the man. They spoke in low voices while the doctor furiously jotted down notes. From where I sat, I could only hear snippets of the conversation so I quietly moved closer to where they stood. 

"In addition to showing signs of severe dehydration and malnutrition, she presented in a highly agitated state," the doctor explained with a clinical matter-of-factness. "It's unclear whether or not the alcohol triggered the delusions but it's apparent that she's been unwell for quite some time."

"Did you... Did you give her anything?" Tim asked, and the doctor nodded.

"We administered an intravenous dose of Olanzapine after she refused an oral alternative. She's been in and out since; however, when she has been awake, she's been relatively lucid, which is good."

A silence passed between them. The next time Tim spoke, his voice sounded pleading. "Can I see her?"

The doctor began to lead Tim away but then Sophie's father stopped and asked the man to wait. He walked back to where I still stood and placed a hand on my shoulder. "I'll send someone for you once I've had a chance to see how she's doing. I promise."

I heard myself thank him and then wearily sank down onto a hard leather chair for the second time that night. My stomach clenched painfully as I watched Tim hurry through the doors to the emergency room, acutely aware that I was the only one who had no idea what was going on. I looked around the waiting room, first surveying a weeping woman who sat alone in a corner and then studying a family of five who'd arrived at the same time as me. I wondered who they were all waiting for and why. 

A security guard stood speaking to a homeless man who'd stumbled into the emergency room to find shelter for the night. The guard looked tired as he picked up the transient's tattered sack of belongings and ordered him to leave, sending a ripple of pity through my core. Instinctively, I reached for my wallet, but by the time I fished out my last twenty, the man and his bag had disappeared into the night. 

The security guard eyed the bill in my hand and shook his head disapprovingly. I looked away. The hands of the clock on the wall showed it was half past five and I sighed; I'd been waiting for close to three hours. Trying to fight off my fatigue, I stared up at the ceiling and watched the pulsing glow of the fluorescent lights above my head.

Eventually, I could no longer keep my eyes open and I let my lids drift shut, though I warned myself not to fall asleep. Desperate to keep my mind alert, I decided to do something that I rarely did -- I prayed. It felt strange at first and maybe a tad hypocritical. After all, I hadn't stepped foot inside of a church since I'd turned sixteen and I doubted that I'd start going again any time soon. Halfway through my rambling prayer, I decided to widen my net by giving a nod to every god I'd ever learned about. Truth be told, I didn't particularly care which higher power was listening to me, just so long as Sophie would be okay.

The next time that I opened my eyes, a nurse stood with his face inches from mine while he shook my arm and called my name. Startled, I let out a yelp and twisted from his firm grasp. The nurse quickly let go.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly, and I saw that his nametag read Quan. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I'm fine," I mumbled, trying to ignoring my heart as it pounded inside of my chest. "What's going on?"

"You're waiting on Sophie Winters, correct?" When I nodded, Quan beckoned me to stand. "She's been moved to a private room. Her dad sent me to come get you."

Relief flooded over me. "So, she's fine?"

Quan hesitated. "She's stable," he replied cryptically.

Resisting the urge to shake him until a straight answer came out of his mouth, I asked through gritted teeth, "What does that mean?"

Annoyingly, Quan didn't answer, instead leading me through the same doors that Tim had disappeared through not long before. The well lit halls of the emergency room were surprisingly quiet, only disturbed by the sounds of machines beeping and the hum of staff members talking. Nurses dashed around with intense expressions of concentration but this part of the hospital looked nothing like the scenes I usually saw on TV.

I caught myself trying to peer into rooms and around the curtains that hid patients from view as I followed Quan. Sophie didn't seem to be anywhere and that sent a new wave of anxiety to my stomach. When we reached a locked door at the end of yet another hallway, I nearly asked where we were going, but stopped once Quan reached for the laminated ID card clipped to his waistband. He lifted the plastic sheath and placed it against an electronic reader beside the door, holding it there until the light on the device flashed green. A low buzz sounded as he leaned on the handle and ushered me through, then he waited until the lock clicked shut behind us.

"Sophie's just down the hall," Quan assured me, though I barely heard him over the screaming that echoed throughout the new corridor.

Shivers ran down my spine as I listened to the desperate cries of the people around me. Quan must have seen the panic on my face because he sighed. "We've been busy tonight," he explained in a low voice, though that didn't answer any of the questions circulating through my mind.

It wasn't until I looked up and saw the name of the hospital wing that I began to understand why the patients here sounded so distressed: they'd put Sophie in the psychiatric ward.

"Excuse me," I said, trying to be heard over a man shouting, "why is Sophie here?"

Quan shook his head. "Sorry. Her dad will have to be the one to tell you."

We resumed walking in silence until Quan stopped in front of a closed door with a small window. He pulled down the chart that hung beside the doorframe and I could see Sophie's name at the top of the pages that he flipped through. When he was done, he put the chart back in its holder before knocking twice. A muffled voice responded and Quan opened the door, allowing me to walk through first.

Once I'd realized what part of the hospital we were in, I'd begun preparing myself for the worst but when I finally saw Sophie, I knew I hadn't prepared myself nearly enough. Her tiny frame swam in the hospital gown she'd been dressed in and it was then that I realized how much weight she'd lost. Sophie's wig was gone and blonde hair splayed across her pillow in tangled webs as tears streamed down her face. Tim cradled one of her hands in his and whispered words I couldn't hear. I felt like an intruder, the scene clearly not meant for me to watch. 

Still, I stepped closer. At first, I could only see the cast on her arm but when I neared her bed, I felt like I'd been hit in the gut. Restraints circled her unbroken wrist and ankles, and that's when I knew that I couldn't deny it any longer. All my fears that there was something wrong with Sophie -- something really wrong -- had been right. 

Why didn't you do anything to help her sooner?  The thought forced me to choke down a rush of bile as it tickled the back of my throat.

"Hit the Call button if you need me," Quan said from where he stood in the doorway, and then stepped into the hall, pulling the door shut behind him.

When he was gone, Tim motioned for me to stand next to him. Sophie's eyes seemed unfocused and dull, though they still stood out against the paleness of her face. "Hey, Soph," I said gently, then hesitated before kissing her forehead.

Clearly lost in her own world, I straightened and turned to Tim, who stared at me with a mixture of concern and a strange hint of approval. "What's going on?" I asked him, careful not to jostle the sling around Sophie's shoulder.

Tim smoothed back Sophie's hair and whispered, "She has a few bruised ribs and her arm is fractured in three places. The doctor said it could've been much worse but the alcohol in her system probably kept her from tensing when she hit the ground." He shook his head. "I never thought I'd be happy to hear that she'd been drinking."

I took in the news and then moved to a corner of the room with Tim close behind. "Why is she in here?"

Guilt filled Tim's eyes as his gaze drifted over to his daughter. "Because she needs to be," he whispered sadly. "Sophie is... She's not well. She--"

Tim's sentence died on his lips as Sophie's head whipped around to look at us. The dullness in her eyes had been replaced by terrified rage. "Stop talking about me," she cried, voice growing shrill. "Leave me alone, leave me alone -- please, leave me alone."

She was screaming now, though sobs interrupted her frenzied tirade. Tim moved to push the Call button but a doctor and two nurses, including Quan, burst through the door before he could. Sophie flailed hysterically against the restraints while the doctor rattled off orders with a firm urgency and the nurses responded without hesitation. I stared helplessly until I felt a hand on my shoulder and didn't resist when Tim led me away.

------------------

Tim placed a cup of watery hot chocolate on the table in front of me before settling into the chair across from where I sat. After leaving Sophie's room, he'd suggested that we wait in the hospital's cafeteria until his daughter stabilized again. I wrapped my hands around the styrofoam mug but didn't move to drink the swirling contents. I waited patiently while Tim blew on his coffee and stirred in a packet of sugar, noticing that the wrinkles on his face appeared to have multiplied since we'd first met.

With a sigh, Tim finally took a long swallow of coffee, nearly draining the cup, and then launched into the explanation that I'd been waiting for. "Sophie is bipolar," he said, and then looked around quickly to make sure no one in the canteen was listening. Lowering his voice, he added, "And, for what it's worth, so am I."

I looked at him for a long moment and then slowly started putting the pieces of the puzzle together. Before I could say anything, though, Tim continued, "Actually, I'm quite certain she got it from me. Of all the genes I could've passed on, right?" He chuckled mirthlessly at his own joke. "It took me a very long time to admit that I needed help, by which point her mom had already given up on me... Our marriage, too."

Sophie's dad closed his eyes and I could sense his pain radiated from somewhere deep inside. "I'm sorry," I began, but Tim quickly cleared his throat.

"No, no, that was my fault. There were other reasons why it didn't work out between us -- the main one being her refusal to see the same signs in Sophie."

"You knew?" I blurted, surprised for some reason.

Tim lifted his cup to his lips again and nodded. "Of course I did. Granted, I didn't want to believe it either at first. It wasn't until she emancipated herself that I started to pay more attention to her behavior and finally realized the truth."

"Is that how she found out? You told her?"

"Hm?" Tim swished a swig of coffee around his cheeks before swallowing. "Oh, no. Sophie's as stubborn as me and, with her mom whispering in her ear, what chance did I have to convince her of anything? In fact, we didn't talk for over a year until she got sent to rehab. She'd kill me if I said it but I'm glad that it happened; while she was there, I convinced the doctors to evaluate her. Sure enough, I'd been right all along and she's been receiving treatment ever since."

"I don't understand," I said. "How has she hidden this from everyone?"

"Well, that's... I've never understood it, but she honestly believes that being seen as some wild party girl is somehow been less embarrassing than admitting her real problem. I think that's the main reason why she doesn't have many friends either -- she didn't want anyone to find out." Tim frowned down at his lap. "Frankly, she's always been a very lonely girl and so desperate to be liked. No matter how much she says that she loves her job, as a parent, it always hurts to see people being so cruel to her."

Tim trailed off and stared into the distance while I worked on my hot chocolate. The drink was tasteless but at least it helped to fight off the chill brought on by the hospital's A/C. When I'd finished, I leaned back in my chair and studied Timothy Winters for the second time that evening. He may not have been an impressive man but I knew that he was a good dad -- or, at least he wanted to be.

"Has Sophie ever been this sick before?" I asked, bringing Tim back from whatever place he'd run away to inside his mind.

"No, never," Tim admitted, running his fingers along his bald spot. "This is the first time she's ever been truly manic, so far as I'm aware."

"What do you think happened?"

"I'm not sure." Tim rubbed his eyes and stifled a yawn. "She told me that she'd switched her medication a few months ago because she thought it was making her gain weight. She swore that she was fine but I should've made sure..."

I continued to talk to Sophie's dad until the glow of the sunrise began filtering in through the windows, bathing the pea colored walls of the cafeteria in a hazy orange light. Tim checked his watch, startled by how much time had passed, and then told me to go home and rest. When I protested, he simply handed me his phone and told me to input my number.

"They'll probably be moving her to the non-emergency ward later this morning so there's no point in you sticking around," he explained once my contact details were saved. "I'll call you as soon as she's ready for you to come see her, okay?"

Although I wanted to stick around, the throbbing ache in the back of my head told me that I wouldn't be able to last much longer without a nap. Reluctantly, I promised Tim that I'd be back and then made my way to the hospital's taxi stand. Somewhat surprisingly, it seemed as if Sophie's trip to the emergency room had remained a secret; there wasn't a single paparazzo loitering anywhere near the hospital's front door. The only people outside had either a cigarette or a phone in their hands, which reminded me that I would need Scott's help to pick up my car from where I'd left it the night before.

I hadn't checked my phone once since climbing into the ambulance with Sophie so I took a moment to scroll through my alerts. Most of the messages I'd received were texts from friends but one name on my missed call log startled me. Realizing that the person had left a voicemail, I lifted my phone to my ear and listened.