That evening and the evenings that followed, I helped Dad in the house. I mixed wallpaper paste for him and carefully painted the window frames with him. We went to see Mum and the baby in the hospital.

The doctors still aren't sure about the baby's well-being. When the people with the white blouses come into the room or walk by, looking through the window or the door, their faces are either anxious or sad.

This time, Doctor Death didn't come during our visit to give us news. He sent the intern student. He took the baby's vital signs, looked at the graphs and left. His forehead was wrinkled.

I looked at him walking, just as worried as he was. Mum handled me softly. I looked her in the eyes. Dad was also staring at me. He was holding Mum's hand the way she took mine.

'We will soon get out together,' she said. 'I promise, Michael.'

'How can you be so sure about that, Mum? The doctors look depressed when they enter the room. They never give us good news. She was getting stronger, and now it's going back down. How should I believe you? Doctors are useless! The baby isn't getting better, it worsens day by day!' I said violently.

'Michael! How dare you?' scolded Dad.

He was now standing up in front of me, looking mad. A tear was rolling down Mum's cheek, then another came, then another.

I didn't mean to be that hard. I felt awful about making Mum cry, but I had to say it. It was inside for too long. I took a step back.

'Sorry Mum,' I added, crying too, now. 'But listen Dad, I'm scared too! Don't you know anything?'

And I ran through the corridor, jostling people. I didn't see anything. I was weeping too much, too hard.

I also ran into Doctor Death. This man was as hard as a stone. He said with a monotone voice when I looked at him,

'Hey Michael, where are you going like that? I was about to go see your parents; don't you want to come?'

I didn't stop myself. I hate Doctor Death. Always there but never helping. At least I assist Mum and Dad at home. He doesn't do so with the baby, he is useless. All the people here are useless; they're not even able to save my baby sister!

I hate them, I hate them all.

I went to the reception and asked for a phone call, hiding my upset face. The kind old lady didn't complain and handed me the landline. I was thankful for that.

I took the phone and dialed Mina's house number. It wasn't picked up the first time. I decided to call one another time, wiping my tears.

Beep

Beep

Beep

'Hello?'

It was Mina's voice, I immediately recognized it.

'Who's there?'

I first didn't answer, relieved that she took the call on the line.

'MOM, I THINK THERE'S A SCAMMER ON THE PHONE'

'Mina! It's me! Michael!' I said, worried that she could hang up.

'Michael? MOM, NEVER MIND'

'Don't scream please, Mina,' I begged, rubbing my ringing ear.

'Michael, what's wrong with your voice?'

I don't understand.

'My voice?' I asked, clearing my throat. 'What's wrong with my voice?'

'Were you crying?'

'No.'

'Michael...'

She knows me so well. I sobbed and tears started rolling down again.

'Can you come?' I asked.

'Where are you?'

'In the hospital.'

'My mom and I will pick you up in ten minutes if you can wait,' she declared.

She was saying goodbye and hanging up the phone when I stopped her.

'Mina!'

'What?' she said.

'Thanks...'

'No worries, Michael. I'll always be there for you.'

She hung up this time. And she was there with her mother in less than ten minutes just like she said. I got into their car.

'Thank you for taking me home,' I said. 'Would you mind if I call my parents when we arrive?'

'Sure, Michael,' said Mina's mom, smiling sadly.

That is what I did. Then, we played with Mina's pet: Whisper, and she showed me how to find fossils in the rocks of her garden. I was amazed. I did not think of the baby's illness or Doctor Death for all the time I was playing with Mina.

In the evening, Mina and I decided to visit Skellig, to bring him some food. We took some cookies from Mina's cupboard, and we ran to the dilapidated garage where we usually meet him. But we were not prepared for that.

As we came closer to the garage, we could see it wasn't there anymore. Only Dad, some random men and a pile of garbage laying on the floor where the building used to be.

I ran to it, rummaging through the wooden boards, Mina following me.

I was now screaming at Dad, once again.

'Skellig? Skellig? Skellig!' I said desperately. 'Dad, why did you do that? My friend was living there. Our friend was living there. You killed him! You killed Skellig.

'Who is Skellig?' he asked.

'My friend, I just told you!'

Dad sighed.

'Grow up a little, Michael. You know as well as me that your "friend" does not exist. Stop complaining about such childish things.'

I sat down in the garbage. No. No, it cannot be. Skellig exists. Dad is lying.

'You're a liar Dad!' I yelled, crying. 'Skellig IS real! You killed him!'

He once again sighed.

'No, I am not, Michael! You stop it now! We all had a difficult day, so you better stop your silly things.'

I was about to go scream in Dad's face, but Mina was holding me firmly.

'Mina let me go! DAD, SKELLIG IS NOT SILLY, HE IS REA-'

I could not finish my sentence. A pain set in behind my heart; I fell on my knees.

'Michael are you okay?' asked Mina.

'There's a problem with the baby,' I declared.

I saw distress in Dad's eyes. He looked at me and raced to the car.

'I'm going to see your mother,' he said, running.

Tonight couldn't be worse.

I spent the evening at Mina's place. She and her mother comforted me, telling me stories or trying to entertain me in any way. We drank hot chocolate and read books, but my mind kept drifting back on the baby. I didn't feel her tiny heartbeat anymore. I felt like I'd never feel it again, I hoped I was wrong.

They really tried to make me feel better, I swear, but my heart and my mind were away. I felt like a burden. I didn't like feeling like a burden...

My mind was full of 'what ifs' when the phone rang. We held our breath and carefully went to the phone. Mina's mother picked it up. Mina took my hand in hers, squeezing it tightly. I could feel my heart beating through my chest, trying to run away.

Mina's mother's face turned awfully sad and my heart broke. I took the phone from her shaky hand and heard Mum's voice. She was crying. My knees were trembling, hardly supporting my weight and my fear. I listened to her, trying not to burst immediately into tears.

'I'm sorry sweetheart, It's over. She... (Mum sobbed and her voice cracked) She didn't make it. Your sister found... her... her way to heaven.'

But she left us here, in hell. The weight of our grief destroying us from the inside.

As Mum was speaking, I felt like I was being stabbed a billion times everywhere on my body. Pain was present at every inch of my body reminding me of her, of my beloved baby sister.

I fell on my knees, dropping the phone.

I collapsed to the ground, my whole-body trembling uncontrollably, overwhelmed by too many feelings. But the only one I was sure about was pain. A pain that will never let me go, a pain that will still be stuck on me for the rest of my life, just like the grief of my dead sister.

I stroked the wooden floor furiously, my tears were soaking my face and falling. I yelled in terror and despair. I couldn't stop myself from sobbing, crying, and feeling lost.

I yelled again,

And again,

And again.

I knew Mum was still on the phone, I could hear her whimpering on the phone too. I know she heard me crying to death, that made me feel even worse. But never mind, we're all broken and destroyed from the inside.

This time, I was right, she was dead.

I asked between two sobs:

'Mum... You... you promised she would be... she would be alright... Mum, why did... why did you lie to me? Why does everyone lie to me...? Why? Why? WHY? Why is she dead? Why couldn't the doctors save her? She is just a baby! I don't understand, Mum. Tell me... Why is she dead...'

The room filled with the sound of our shared distress and our tears wetting the wooden flooring.

'I'm sorry sweetheart.' 

-----

Hi ! I appreciate that you read all of this ! 

This was a homework for my English class (not my first language), and I got 20, so I am really proud !!!!

Also, while my teacher and I were talking about my writing, she told me I could do this for a living.

I mean, 

FOR A LIVING

Bruh.

I'm so thankful to her for that 'compliment' and also I'm super happy and proud of myself.

People do like my writings.

My teacher DO LIKE MY WRITING !

Sorry, I'm really really happy !

I hope you enjoyed and if you'd like to, give me feedbacks ! 

Byeee