Anastasia’s POV
I stormed out of his office in tears, pretty sure his office colleagues were staring at me. I couldn’t believe everything that had just unfolded. I don’t know if all this is a good thing or not but it has definitely become more complicated.
I couldn’t even tell him the reason why I visited him at the office. How do I even move on from here, being a single mother with no job is something I never pictured my mid-twenties to look like. So many things ran through my mind as the tears were flowing freely, Thank goodness for tinted car windows.
After what seemed like a long period, my tears finally died down and my bag kept buzzing. I picked up my phone from my bag and saw many missed calls from Mom. It was unusual to receive so many calls from her. I tried calling her back but to no avail. What could have been wrong? I had a gut feeling that something had gone wrong. I ignited my car and drove straight to my father’s house.
When I arrived in front of the porch of the house, I walked to the door and knocked. There was no answer. I kept on knocking, yet not a single response.
“Good afternoon, ma,” said a worker who lives nearby as she quickly came over to me. She looked very tired like she had been running around doing chores without a break.
I looked at her. “Where is everyone? I’ve been knocking on the door for a long time. ”
The worker’s expression changed as if I had said something bad happened, and she paused before talking. “I’m really sorry, Mom, but Dad has been taken to the hospital quickly. ”
Hearing those words made my stomach feel like it had been hit. “What” My voice trembled, and my heart raced.
“I’m not certain about everything, but it happened very quickly. ” They brought him to the family hospital. “Your mom went with him. ”
I couldn’t think of anything for a moment. The idea of something bad happening to my dad was really hard to handle. I had already gone through a lot and lost many things today, so the thought of losing my dad too was hard to believe.
Without saying anything else, I turned and hurried back to my car, struggling with the keys while trying to start it. My hands were shaking in an uncontrollable manner, and I had to take a deep breath to steady my breath. Finally, the car roared to life, and I drove out of the driveway with speed, heading straight to the hospital.
The drive seemed to last forever, with each second feeling heavy because we didn’t know what would happen. My mind was busy as I tried not to cry again. Why today? Why at this moment? Everything was crumbling around me, and I felt completely powerless to stop it.
When I finally arrived at the hospital, I jumped out of the car and rushed inside. The familiar scent of antiseptic filled my nostrils, bringing back memories I didn’t want to relive. The clean white walls felt like they were getting closer to me as I walked to the front desk.
“I’m looking for Mr. Harry Winslow,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
The nurse behind the desk gave me a sympathetic look, which only heightened my anxiety. “I’ll check for you, ma’am. Please wait a moment.”
Every second she spent typing on her computer felt like forever. I could barely stand still, my heart pounding so loudly in my ears that I could hardly hear anything else.
Finally, she looked up at me. “He was put in room 302. “It’s down the hall on your left.
I nodded and hurried down the corridor, my legs feeling like they were made of lead. I wasn’t sure what I’d find when I got there, but I prayed with everything in me that my father was okay.
As I approached room 302, I heard the faint sound of sobbing. My heart felt even sadder. I opened the door slowly, and the room was empty. I met a nurse who said he had to go to the operating room for an emergency surgery and shared many details about it.
I hardly heard what the nurse said as I rushed through the hospital hallways. I couldn’t process what she had said-my father, my strong, dependable father, was in the hospital, fighting for his life. The panic clawed at my throat, and I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. How did everything go wrong so fast?
When I got to the operating room, I saw them pushing him out on a stretcher. His body was weak, and his face was very pale. My mother was very upset, her hands shaking as she stayed close to him, and her eyes looked empty with fear. Seeing her like that made my stomach feel even worse with fear.
My feet moved me ahead almost by themselves, but it seemed like everything around me was going really slowly. As I got closer, my legs felt shaky and weak, but I pushed myself to keep moving forward. Because maybe if I touched him, he would come back to life.
“Dad,” I said softly, like if I spoke too loudly, it would make it true and I couldn’t take it back.
No answer
I tripped and moved forward, trying to touch his cold, unfeeling face. “Dad, this isn’t funny. ” Get “Please stop joking around with me. ”
Still, nothing has changed. His chest didn’t move, and his lips didn’t show any sign of movement. It was completely wrong-he couldn’t be gone, not like this. He just couldn’t be.
“Dad, come on,” I said, my voice growing louder, more desperate. “This is not funny. ” “Please wake up. ”
The tears that were going to fall before were gone now, and I felt empty and emotionless. The surprise was so strong that I felt like I was outside myself, just watching this bad situation happen. I lightly shook his shoulders at first, then shook them harder when he didn’t answer.
“Wake up” I shouted, my voice breaking from the strain. “Dad, wake up. I know you’re just kidding. ” “This isn’t a joke, please get up. ”
A nurse tried to hold me back, but I broke away and screamed in fear. “Don’t touch me. Don’t you dare touch me? Dad, wake up. Please wake up. ”
I was shaking him now, my hands frantic as I tried to bring him back to me, to pull him out of whatever dark place he had gone. My world was crumbling around me, and all I wanted was for him to open his eyes, to tell me that everything was going to be okay, that this was just a bad dream.
“Please, Dad,” I begged, my voice breaking into sobs. “Please get up. ” Please don’t treat me this way. Please stay with me. I can’t… I can’t do this without you. There’s so much I have to tell you, so much I still need you for. Please, Dad, please…”
But he stayed still. He didn’t get up. It felt like a hard hit, and I finally let all my feelings out. Tears poured down, and I fell onto his chest, my body trembling from my sadness.
“Dad, please,” I cried, my voice hurting from all the yelling. “I need you. ” I can’t do this by myself. Please, stay with me. “Please don’t leave me by myself. ”
I yelled loudly, a deep and painful sound that echoed in the empty hospital room, cutting through the air sharply. The pain felt too much to handle and made it hard to breathe. I couldn’t breathe, think, or feel anything except the big emptiness that his loss created in my heart.
Someone tried to touch me again, but I pushed their hand away. I could barely see because I was crying and so angry. “Don’t touch me. Go away” I yelled, my voice rough and weak. “Dad, please, you can’t leave. ” “You can’t just leave me like this. ”
But he had left. And there was nothing I could do to bring him back.
I stood there, staring at his lifeless body, feeling the world spin out of control. My heart raced, pounding so hard that it echoed in my ears, drowning out everything else. My breaths became shallow and quick like I couldn’t get enough air, and my chest tightened until it felt like it would split open. I recognized this feeling-panic, a strong and overwhelming fear.
The edges of my vision started to blur, dark spots dancing before my eyes as my head spun. The room seemed to tilt and sway as if the ground beneath me was shifting, unstable. I tried to focus, to stay grounded, but everything was slipping away like I was being pulled under by a riptide.
“No… not now,” I whispered, the words barely making it past my lips as the panic attack took hold, stronger than ever. My limbs felt heavy, my knees weak, like they couldn’t support me any longer. The walls seemed to close in, the room shrinking, suffocating me with its overwhelming reality.
My heartbeat roared in my ears, each beat echoing the unbearable pain in my chest. I couldn’t do this-I couldn’t handle this. The heaviness of it all-losing things, feeling betrayed, and being sad-was just too much to handle. My life had become a bad dream, and I couldn’t get away.
The last thing I saw before everything went dark was my dad’s calm face after he died, and the hospital workers coming towards me as I fell.