Page 82 of Indigo

PAXTON

“MR SHEPARD?” A KIND-LOOKINGnurse breaks me out of my trance as I pace back and forth in the secluded waiting room.

Pausing mid-stride, I look up at her, the harsh fluorescent lights above us forcing me to squint. “Yes?”

She steps forward and places a hand on my forearm, a gesture that would normally be comforting, I’m sure. The overwhelming smell of bleach and the fact that I still can’t get a hold of Indie both have me on edge, so instead of letting it go, allowing her to touch me, I pull my arm back and scowl down at her.

“Indigo Parish is here,” she says, taking a step backwards.

My body goes stiff. “Where?”

She looks down. “She’s in with her mother.”

“And no one thought to come and get me before you sent her in there?” I snap. I know I’m taking my anger out on the wrong person, but she’s the only one here.

“It’s standard procedure, Mr Shepard. She is the patient's daughter, the only one allowed access before she consen–”

“How is she?”

She furrows her brows and clutches the clipboard she’s holding to her chest. “Indigo?”

“Lana.”

She visibly pales, and I know what she’s about to say before she opens her mouth. “I’m very sorry, Mr Shepard. She didn’t make–”

I don’t let her finish. Storming out of the waiting room, I head down the hallway, my heart racing, my stomach churning.

There’s no way. They’re wrong. They brought her to the hospital. They got her back on the beach. She had a fucking pulse when they loaded her into the ambulance.

When I realise I have no idea which room I’m searching for, I start frantically calling Indie’s name. People stop and stare at me as I jerk my head from left to right, and run up and down the same hallway over and over. The sound of machines beeping, patients moaning in pain and doctors chattering away all blend together, and panic begins to take over.

Out of breath, I stop and bend over, placing my hands on my knees. I close my eyes and try to breathe, try to block it all out and focus.

“Sir. Indigo is in room 204. Just down the hall and to the left,” someone says from beside me.

I nod in response, but I don’t bother to look up. I simply run as quickly as my legs will carry me to the room I’ve already passed three times.

I pause with my hand on the doorknob and take a deep breath before pushing it open and slipping inside.

Be strong now. Strong for her.

“Blue?” I whisper into the dark room.

The lights have been turned off. The blinds have been drawn, blocking out the sunlight, and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust.

I thought nothing could be worse than the image of Lana’s lifeless body lying on the sand earlier today, but I was wrong.

She’s covered in a white sheet, flat on the bed, a pillow behind her head as if she’s sleeping.

I stand there for a moment, waiting for her chest to rise, to prove the nurses wrong. I wait for her to breathe, but she doesn’t.

She’s gone.

I mentally shake myself and rub at my eyes as my vision blurs.

Stop it.

I turn my attention to Indie, who is sitting silently, right beside her mother. Her face is blank, emotionless, and her eyes are locked on Lana's face.

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