She had turned on the lights and I immediately sat up even though it took my eyes a few moments to adjust to the brightness of the lights.

“It’s Graham… I- He’s in the hospital.”

W

ith a single jump I got out of bed, suddenly I was on the alert, all the tiredness had vanished within a second, but pure horror made my intestines twist.

“What happened?”

Clary, who seemed to be completely out of it because she didn’t answer and her eyes wide and full of panic. I rushed towards her, grabbing her arm while I heard some people rushing down the stairs at the end of the hallway.

“Clary, what happened?”, I asked again, this time with more urgency.

Helplessly she shrugged. “I- I don’t know. The hospital just called dad… They said- I think they found him in an alley in Hunts Point. Dad says he got- Oh my God, I can’t I- They told him he got shot.”

I felt my face turn ash grey and I was thankful for the fact that I had merely eaten a piece of bread yesterday, because my guilty conscience had pressed on my stomach, because otherwise I would have thrown up into the plant tub next to the door.

Clary tried drying her tears, but I was too shocked to cry at all.

At that moment I would have given anything to simply wake up and find myself simply having had a nightmare. But this was real. The fear and shock were causing me pain worse than any broken bone ever could.

I would even go back to work and let everyone call me a whore for the rest of my life just to make this undone.

Clary, who had finally calmed down a little pulled me outside my room and I only had time to grab my phone from my nightstand, before we silently walked towards the elevator where everyone else was already waiting.

A confused Charlie was on Damien’s arms and for a slit second Damien’s and my gaze met. Even a blind man could have told how worried and upset he was.

And it was my fault. Had I only told him about Graham! I remembered the tattooed guy from the park, and I shivered. I hoped he couldn’t see the guilt and regret in my eyes.

The car ride was quiet, except for the noises other cars made and the muffled sniffles of Mrs Black, who was sitting between Clary and her husband. The driver drove quickly but it felt like forever and when we finally reached the hospital. And still I didn’t want to get out of the safe, warm car.

What would the doctors say?

Was Graham okay?

Was he even conscious?

I didn’t allow myself to ask any more questions. My mind made up images of Graham, lying on the dirty street, unconscious, and covered in his own blood. I pushed the images aside and got out of the car, following Damien and Charlie, who had still been too tired to ask any questions during the ride. But now he was awake.

“What are we doing here?”, he asked Damien, who had picked him up again.

“Your uncle Graham is sick, and we are going to visit him in the hospital.”, he tried to explain, but how were you supposed to explain to a four year old, that his uncle got shot?

“He is sick? Like me?”, Charlie asked, and Damien froze for a second, before slowly shaking his head.

“No, no. Not like you. He got hurt, but he is going to be fine.”, he said determined and I wondered how he found the strength to sound so certain. When I had first found out about Charlie’s cancer, I had cried for days, if not weeks, whenever Charlie wasn’t around.

But he was stronger than I was, and certainly strong enough to know the truth. I had to tell him now. He deserved the truth.

A nurse had taken us to a waiting room, but she hadn’t been able to tell us anything about Graham’s condition, except, that he was still breathing.

And that had to be enough for now, so I tucked at Damien’s shirt and nodded towards the hallway leading around the corner.

“Can- can we talk for a second?”, I asked, trying to sound firm while my knees were already turning into jello.

I had talked quietly, so no one besides him could hear me.

Damien raised an eyebrow, not sure what on earth I wanted to talk about while his brother was possibly in mortal danger. If Graham would have just read my messages in time… I had checked, he still hadn’t read them.

“Now? Look, Princess, if it’s about what happened yesterday, do you think we can talk about it later?”

This was harder than I thought it was going to be.

“It’s about Graham.”, I responded and for the first time since we left the apartment he actually looked at me and his back stiffened a little. He eyed me conspicuously as if he had sensed the guilt and sorrow in my eyes.

He turned around and I followed his look. Charlie was on his grandfather’s lap and Mr Black read a book to him.

Clary attempted to read one of the magazines, at least she was holding it in her hand, and it was flipped open, but her eyes weren’t moving and simply focused on something only she could see. Mrs Black was walking up and down the room, despite her husband’s numerous tries to get her to stay put in her seat.

Damien got up, laid a hand on my back, and pushed me slightly out of the room.

“What is it?”, he asked when we were outside, and I started nervously brushing over Clary’s shirt, as I hadn’t even thought of bringing something else to wear except my jacket that I had grabbed before we had left.

My eyes were flicking across the room, trying to find something to hold onto, but Damien stepped into my field of vision and I gulped to get rid of the lump in my throat, but it just got bigger and bigger.