“Get a doctor in here. I want him checked out from head to toe!”
Phillips nodded. “Yes!”
Soon after, the hallway cleared. A hush fell over the ward.
Linda sat quietly in her wheelchair. No one paid her any mind, leaving her like some forgotten prop.
“Miss Harris.” Quentin stepped over to her and offered a polite greeting. “Would you like me to arrange for someone to take you home?”
Since Ernest was unavailable to look after Linda, Quentin took responsibility for her safety, making sure she didn’t face another mishap that might pull Ernest away again.
Linda took a breath, her smile gentle as she nodded. “Alright.” She gave her caregiver a quiet instruction. “Let’s go.”
“Yes.” A simple nod from the caregiver followed.
While the wheelchair rolled down the corridor, Linda found her phone and tapped out a message to Ernest.
Inside the oxygen room, a nurse carefully secured the oxygen tube back onto Elissa, and as she did, Ernest’s phone chimed with a new message.
Lifting the phone, Ernest checked the screen, a faint frown flickering across his face.
Curiosity flickered in Elissa’s gaze as she glanced at him, her tone frosty. “Who is it this time? Your fiancée?”
Ernest gave no reply, simply sliding the phone aside.
Quickly changing topics, he offered, “Are you cold? I’ll call the nurse and get a blanket—”
“Hand me your phone.” With impatience in her voice, Elissa cut in. Her frustration showed as she reached for it. “What did she send you? Let me see!”
“Elissa.” Ernest’s brow furrowed in irritation. “Could you please not do this right now?”
? ? ν﹒
“Why would I?” A bitter laugh escaped Elissa. “Oh, right. I’m only the other woman. What right do I have to check your messages? I should know my place!”
Words failed Ernest for a moment. “Stop saying that about yourself.”
After hesitating, he finally unlocked his phone and held it out. “Look for yourself, then.”
Not bothering to hold back, Elissa snatched the phone from his hand. A message from Linda appeared: Heading back now. I’ll be waiting for you at home.
For a split second, Elissa stopped breathing. Suddenly, she hurled the phone at Ernest with all her strength.
Elissa had channeled every ounce of her strength into the throw.
The phone itself was hard and unforgiving, and Ernest did not attempt to dodge. It struck his forehead with devastating force, immediately creating a deep gash from which blood began streaming.
Ernest closed his eyes momentarily, maintaining his unwavering posture without the slightest movement, while blood trickled steadily down his forehead and across his brow.
.
.
.