Later, Nanny was somewhere talking to the doctors because they never did that kind of stuff in front of me. Our neighbor, Mrs. Brock, already picked up Bea and took her home. I was alone but I was happy because I was mad at Daddy for hating my guardian monster and Nanny wouldn’t stop touching me and saying stuff in French that was supposed to be nice, but I didn’t understand.
I was supposed to stay in the kid part of the hospital because they were keeping me overnight but I didn’t like it there. There were a lot of kids and a lot of them cried. It was sad and it was even sadder that the nurses and staff tried to cover it up with bright colours and lots of toys. It wasn’t a happy place and it kind of freaked me out.
If I stayed in my room like I was supposed to, it was even scarier and sadder because grandpa said I had a good imagination and I did, so it was easy to picture all the monsters crawling around outside, just waiting for me to fall asleep, so they could eat me.
Besides, Daddy had mentioned that my guardian monster was in the hospital too so maybe I could find him and tell him to run away.
My arm really hurt when I moved but it wasn’t too big a deal because my body had been hurting for a while, like my blood was on fire and I was a volcano about to erupt. I winced when I pulled the needle out of my hand and saw the really purple bruise there. It didn’t scare me though. I bruised really badly really easily.
It wasn’t busy that night so no one noticed me when I walked down the halls and checked out what everyone was doing. People don’t really notice kids unless they’re in the way.
I searched my floor then the one below me and I was super tired by the time I checked the emergency room, but I made myself keep going because the thought of my hero being hurt made me frightened. I didn’t like to see all the blood and chaos in the huge room but I was determined to find my biker man.
I was just pulling back yet another curtain to peek inside when a voice said, “Whatcha doin’, kid?”
I froze.
“Just ’cause you stopped movin’ doesn’t mean I don’t see you anymore,” the same deep voice told me.
It was the voice of a monster, really dark and rumbly like there was something wrong with his throat. He didn’t sound mean though, it kind of sounded like he wanted to laugh.
“I’m not supposed to be down here,” I told him without turning around.
“Figured as much. What’s a little girl doing in the ER all by herself? Not that I’m not stoked to see you walkin’ around after what happened. How’s the shoulder, kid?”
I turned around to look at him through my hair and took a step away because I’d forgotten how much he looked like a monster. He was humungous like a Titan or a giant but in real life. He was lying in a hospital bed, kinda leaning up against the pillow but I thought that if he stood up his head would hit the ceiling. He had a bunch of really long, crazy hair that was blond and brown and his big arms and sides were covered with drawings. There were pictures on his arms that looked like feathers, like those giant arms were really wings like on an angel.
“Are you an angel?” I asked.
I was closer to him than before, but I didn’t remember moving closer to his bed. I reached out to touch his skin because the feathers looked so real and I wanted to know what they felt like.
He made a weird noise like he was choking. “No, kid, I’m no angel.”
“I thought maybe you were a monster because you’re really big, but you have wings and you saved me from all the bad guys,” I explained.
My fingers touched the feather curling over his arm. They didn’t feel like real feathers except his skin was smooth like when you pet a feather just right.
“Does it hurt?” I asked.
“No but it hurt like a bitch to get ’em.”
“A bitch?”
“Damn, sorry, kid. Don’t say that, it’s a bad word.”
“Then why do you use it?” I frowned. Angels didn’t say bad words. My grandpa was the pastor, so I knew these things.
His lips twitched like maybe he wanted to smile. “That’s a good question.”
I crossed my arms. “So, are you going to answer it or what?”
He laughed this time but I didn’t think it was in a mean way so I let him.
“Don’t have a good answer for ya. My dad cursed, my mum cursed, so I curse. Grew up with that shit.”