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The nurses where shuffling back and forth from his wife and son's shared room, which certainly made Henry anxious. Tapping his foot lightly on the carpet of the waiting room, fists raised and pressed against his lips. What happened to his boy? Ever sense the hospital called him off of work, telling him that this was vital for his attention, this concern never left him. Not even for a moment. He tried to calm his breathing down when a doctor called his attention up. "Mr. Fisher, may you step in for a moment?" The doctor said. "We'd like to talk to you privately." Henry's brows furrowed. So this could be as bad as he believes it may be, wont it?
The doctors pulled him aside from privately, and looked anxious themselves. "Your... Your son's face has been demolished. It's beyond our repair." The doctor explained. Henry felt his heart drop. "It couldn't be that bad, could it?" Henry argued. The doctor simply shook his head. "Not so bad, but we're afraid that your child has lost an eye and his nose is completely demolished. We've done some surgery to remove the shattered eye, though. The nasal bone is showing, however, we believe we can put excess skin onto his face and- with time-, will heal itself with daily medication applied to it during the healing process. He has numerous scratches on his face, and some cuts are deeper than the others. Some of those may or may not heal over."
Henry felt his heart ache. His poor son... He knew he wouldn't grow up, what other people would refer to as, "normally". He remembered his wife. "What... What about my wife?" He stuttered, voice shaky from these intake of words. The doctor seemed more saddened to tell him what could've happened than his son. What could've been worse? "Well... That's where we're at a loss, Mr. Fisher." the doctor explained, pushing his glasses up the arch of his nose with a finger, looking to his clipboard in hand. "What do you mean?" Henry said. The doctor sighed. "She has a brain hemorrhage, or-- internal bleeding on the brain. We've tried to stop it, but it's useless." The man explained carefully.
"Why can't you stop it?" Henry lowly said, anger laced in his tone. "Sir, she must've hit her head during the dog attack." The doctor tried to explain, treading lightly. "We know it's troubling to hear that you're wife probably will not make it." He offered, consolingly. Henry looked to his feet and balled his fists tightly at his sides. The urge to punch the man in front of him was unbearable. But, he relaxed, breathing out. "How much time does she have?" Henry tried. The doctor sighed. "We're not exactly sure, sir. But... The damage we see says about two hours from now." the doctor said, sadly.
"Will you allow me to let my son say his goodbyes?" Henry asked. The doctor nodded. "From what we understand, sir, his face and some of his shoulder is scarred. It's bandaged with medication. He should be capable of standing within the next hour or so." Henry nodded, solemnly. How could this have happened? What even were the chances of this? He exhaled a breath he didn't realize he was holding as he clenched and relaxed his fist. "Can I sit with them until then?" He asked. Despite it a fact he'd lose his wife tonight and keep his son hurt his soul. He didn't want this. He wanted both of them to live, not just one. The doctor nodded. "Yes, sir."
...
Henry could admit, the blood splattered on his son's bandages scared him. The reality of all of this scared him. That's not even mentioning the almost dried blood running down his wife's face...
Henry watched the clock, as he transitioned between sitting with his son at his bedside, trying to see if he'll stir, to sitting to his wife's side talking sweetly to her, hoping maybe he could muster a response. A response never came. He counted the seconds before he'd truly have to say goodbye to his wife.
Never did he anticipate this would happen to him. Never did he think this would happen to the two most important people in his life. This wasn't fair...
Though the time ticked, he refused to leave the room for food or water for himself, doctors often coming in and asking their condolences in his trying times. He rejected each offer, coldly. He wanted to be alone. He wanted to use the little time he had.
While he sat at his son's bedside, stroking his tiny soft hand in his fingers, the boy eventually stirred. A blue eye barely visible behind the bloodied bandages. "D... Daddy...? the boy asked, voice hoarse. Henry snapped his attention up to his now conscious son. "Sal, oh, thank heavens you're alright-- Don't talk to much, though alright...?" He asked gently, grasping his tiny hand.
His son seemed confused from the stirring, and shifted a bit, the one eye that was barely visible through the bandages merely blinked at him like he didn't hear him entirely. "Daddy... my face feel's weird..." his son explained. The numbing medication heavily effective. Henry nodded. "Don't worry, that's alright and normal." Henry made a sad smile down at him. "My lips feel funny... is... is that normal too?" the boy said. Henry chuckled halfheartedly. "Yes, that's normal, too." he could tell the boy tried to smile back at him with the wrinkling of the corners of his eyes.
For a while, they sat like that. Henry recited stories to his son to give them something to do, and, eventually an hour turned into minutes before Henry concluded it was time. "Hey... Wanna go see mommy?" Henry asked, Sal nodding his head. "Where is mommy?" Sal asked, his tone too cheerful for the overbearing truth. Henry decidedly didn't say anything, and lifted his tiny son out of the hospital bed, and with a shaky start, his son stood upright shakily. Henry took his hand into his to help guide him and smiled his sad smile down at him. "She's right over there, across the curtain." He tried to mimic the cheerfulness in his son's voice.
Sal didn't say anything and with a few stumbles here and there was guided to his mother's bedside. The blue blanket that she was covered by dangling over the side of the bed. "Hey, Diane... You awake? Sal came to say hello..." Henry offered, hoping maybe she could still hear him. His son, however, lifted a tiny hand to pat her hair, blindly. Henry guessed he needed to feel he was beside her. "M-mommy? I wanted to say hi!" his boy said, as he aimlessly patted. After a moment or so, he emitted a sad whine. "Daddy, why isn't she saying 'Hi' back?" His son looked up with a sad eye staring back at him...