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  • Writer's pictureJulia Roscoe

A quick and sweet vendetta

Part 4

Hospitals had a distinct smell, Felicity noticed. It was a mixture of bleach, or whatever product they used to sanitize everything, and sickness. Felicity felt death sneaking inside her nostrils, into her bloodstream. She couldn’t shake the feeling away, as much as Maggie repeated things would be fine.

They weren’t alone in the waiting room. Aaron’s parents had been notified and arrived half an hour ago. Somehow, the study body had heard the news as well, some of Aaron’s friends were pacing in the waiting area. The rumors had started to spread: Aaron had been hit by a drunk driver, no, he was the one who’d drunk after practice. It wasn’t booze, it was drugs. Better yet, steroids. Someone pointed out anabolic doesn’t get people inebriated.

Felicity welcomed the chatting, it was better than thinking about what she’d done, what she’d caused. The police was still trying to figure out what that was. They questioned Felicity and Maggie, but the first one was in shock, too worried about her lover to talk to anyone. And the second girl was loyal, or perhaps too scared to blab out the truth.

After Maggie’s mention of the truck, the policeman left them alone.

Felicity knew this wasn’t the end of this, though, she knew trouble would follow. Real trouble, not like her parent’s imposed curfew when she was once caught smoking.

None of it mattered at the moment. She stood still, staring at the double doors where the surgeon could come at any time.

Behind her, a voice finally caught her attention.

“How is he? What happened?”

Felicity turned around to face the girl who’d arrived at the hospital. Her pretty face was distorted in worry, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

Something inside Felicity woke – the same anger that hours ago had prompted the girl to do something unimaginable.

Felicity drew strength from that anger, she fed from it like a hungry lioness. Were it not for the number of witness around, that girl’s face would have been red by now – and not from crying.

With renewed endurance, Felicity turned back to the double doors, just waiting for fate to do its thing. Her only regret? Putting the formula in the wrong car.


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