six.

. . . 

The hospital was cold, and it smelled nasty. I was uneasy cause it didn't seem right; humans weren't meant to be stuck in such an area. The waiting room was ugly. It was grey every-fucking-where. There was no color, no life.

For a hospital, you'd think they would be intentional about décor. The chair I was sitting on was hard as shit. No padding, no arm rests. It was almost like they were trying to dissuade people from coming here.

I was on autopilot.

I had no idea what to do. Briggs was alive, there was a heartbeat; a faint one, but a heartbeat, nonetheless.

What the fuck was I supposed to do? Did I pay the money to keep him plugged in and hope for the best, or would he want me to say, 'fuck it' and let him fight? Did I—

"Excuse me?" The voice shook me out of my destructive thoughts. I looked up to the nurse who had spoken to me, rubbing my eyes hastily.

"Are you here with Chester Briggs?"

"Yeah," I jumped up frantically, rubbing my eyes. "I am."

"What's your relationship to him?" She asked, her pen hovered above a clipboard.

"Uh..." I hesitated, my mind blank. She gave me a pitying smile.

"You're his daughter, right?" She supplied, nodding encouragingly. I caught on to what she was trying to do.

"Yeah, uh, thank you."

"It's okay, sweetie, you've had a rough day. He's in room 105."

As soon as she said, I blindly staggered towards the hallway. My heart was pounding in my chest and all I wanted was Briggs to be okay.

Once I was at the door of his room, I froze. What if he wasn't going to be okay? What if --- I shook myself. Absolutely not. I was not going to think that way.

I numbly walked inside, my eyes watering. When I was right by his bed, I rubbed my eyes to clearly see his face. Seeing him laying helpless on the bed, with so many machines plugged into him made me uneasy.

Briggs was strong. Unbeatable—larger than life and the steady beep of the heart monitor was a jolting reminder he was only human. I ran my fingers lightly on top of the bed railing, finding his palm and holding on to it.

I'd already lost one parent. I couldn't lose another.

"Briggs, if you can hear me, please please come back to me." I whispered, my voice cracking.

"I need you."

I gazed at his unaware face. He couldn't hear me. There was no way. I was just trying to make myself feel better.

"He's under anesthesia right now." I turned around.

"My name is Dr. Tang." I shook the hand that he'd held out. "I wanted to speak to you personally, since this is confidential information, and you are listed at the patient's next-of-kin."

"The way he was targeted suggests criminal activitiy. I wanted to make sure you were aware. Do know of anyone who might have been ... involved with him?"

I shook my head, feeling a cold sweat break out on my skin. "No, I don't." My mind struggled to formulate my words. "Briggs was always a careful bastard, he never mentioned anyone who would've wanted to hurt him." I looked back at him, lying motionless on the bed.

"What are his chances of recovery?" I asked, my hopes plummeting when I saw Dr. Tang hesitate.

"It's hard to say, and the next 24 hours are critical. We're doing everything we can to keep him stable, but he's suffered significant injuries. It's going to be a difficult journey for him... if he makes it."

His words pierced my heart. I wanted to cry, but I forced myself to remain stoic. "I want to stay with him," I said firmly.

"Of course," Dr. Tang said, looking sympathetic. "I'll make sure you're able to be with him as much as possible. In the meantime, if you think of anything that might be helpful, please let us know. We're doing everything we can to keep him alive."

I nodded, still holding onto Briggs's hand tightly. I couldn't let go. I couldn't bear the thought of losing him. "I will," I promised.

Dr. Tang left the room, leaving me alone with Briggs. I pulled a chair close to his bed and sat there for a long time. Watching his chest rise and fall, listening to the steady beep of the heart monitor was somewhat calming. Even though I promised myself that I would do whatever it took to find out who did this to him, where the fuck would I start? 

I was too busy trying to stay afloat, there was nothing in my repertoire. I was stuck. 

Briggs was my father figure. I couldn't live life without him. I don't know what exactly I would do, but the moment I found who hurt him, I'd raise absolute hell.

I don't know how long I stared at him. The exhaustion made my head was droop every couple of seconds. Watching over him as he lay unconscious was the only way I knew for sure he'd be safe— I couldn't risk going to sleep and having something happen to him.

I felt guilty leaving his side, even for a moment. Still, I crossed my arms on his bed and burrowed my head. I closed my eyes, trying to push away the thoughts of what had happened, and I unintentionally dozed off into a deep sleep.

The sleep was not peaceful. 

I was plagued by nightmares, my mind replaying the events of the past few days over and over again. I saw Briggs laying in the hospital bed, hooked up to the machines, his face pale and still. I saw the image of the person who had hurt him, their face obscured by shadows.

I woke up with a start, my hart pounding with fear. I looked around, disoriented for a moment, before realizing where I was. I looked over at Briggs, relieved to see that he was still there, still alive. I let out a sigh of relief, but my mind was still racing with fear. I knew I couldn't go back to sleep, not while my mind was filled with such dark thoughts.

I needed water... but that required leaving the safety of the room. I wasn't sure if that was something I was able to do, but the stab in my throat each time I swallowed convinced me to go to the waiting room area.

The temperature in the hallway was drastically cooler than Briggs's room. I stuffed my hands in my pocket. Something poked my finger, so I pulled it out. It was the small slip of paper Mateo had given me.

Unfolding the paper, I hesitated when I saw his number. He did say to contact him if it was an emergency, but I didn't know if it was appropriate.

Fuck it.

Pulling out my pay-as-you-go phone, I dialed his number, my heart beating out of my chest. It was a nerve wracking 10 seconds. 

He wasn't going to pick up, I knew it.

And then, I heard a click. "What the hell? Do you know what time it is?" I looked at the clock at the end of the hallway, horrified. It was 3 AM.

"Hello?" His tone shifted. "Who the fuck is this?"

"Hey," I slowly began. "It's me. Delgado, could you please help me?" It was silent for a moment before I heard rapid rustling and movement.

"Willa? What's going on? Where are you?"

"I'm at the hospital," my voice quivered. "But I'm safe." I didn't know where this vulnerability was coming from or why I was showing it to Mateo, but all I knew was that I wanted him to console me, to tell me everything would be okay.

"I'll be there in 15."

. . .

It took him less than 10 minutes to show up to the hospital. I was sitting in the waiting room, lost in my thoughts when I saw him standing at the sliding doors, with green beanie, hoodie and sweatpants on, looking worried.

For me.

I stood up, not knowing what to do. Do I walk up to him, or stay where I was? As I was freaking out, he made the choice for me.

Without a word, he rushed over to me and embraced me in a bone-crushing hug. I immediately brought my hands up and gripped his hoodie from the back.

Once the sobs started, they did not stop. I felt him tighten his grip, and that made me cry harder. He started rubbing slow circles on my back, and the steady rhythm of his heart allowed me to control my tears.

I pulled back from him, and his arms dropped to his sides. "What's goin on, Willa? Let me help you, I'm here."

I gave him a teary nod, mumbling a soft "thank you."

His gaze was fixed intently on me, and I couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions stir within me. Shyness washed over me as his brown eyes held concern, but there was something more. I couldn't quite decipher what it was, but it sent a flurry of butterflies through my stomach. I quickly scolded myself, trying to regain my composure.

What the fuck was I thinking? I couldn't let myself get caught up in these feelings.

"I appreciate that," I managed to say, my voice slightly shaky. "Really, thank you. It's 3 in the fucking morning and you came here for me." 

As I wiped away the last of my tears, a sense of gratitude washed over me. His unwavering support and kindness were making a difference in my life. For the first time in a long while, I felt a glimmer of hope. I was starting to realize that I could trust him, that he would be there for me when I needed someone. 

With a deep breath, I looked up at him, mustering a small, genuine smile.

In that moment, as I saw his eyes soften and a smile play at the corners of his lips, I knew that this threshold we crossed was undoable.

We both carried scars, but perhaps together, we could heal them. The realization filled me with a renewed sense of courage and a glimmer of possibility. And with Delgado by my side, I knew I wasn't alone.

. . .

word count: 1688