Better to try to get it over with than to sit here and fret, anyway.
I spun around and grabbed my backpack, shoving my spare clothes inside. Once I'd pulled on my jacket, I slung the pack across my back, then yelled, "I'm off. I'll see you in a couple of hours.”
"No, you won't,” she said. "But I'll tell Tao to have a Coke and burger ready for you when you do get home.”
Meaning she saw frustration in my future, because burgers were my food of choice when something was really pissing me off.
I grabbed my keys and headed back down to my bike. The morning traffic was rising toward its peak, so by taking the long way around the city, I actually arrived at the hospital close to eight. I parked in the nearby underground lot, then checked Mom's text, grabbing the ward number and the parents' names before heading inside.
It hit me in the foyer.
The dead, the dying, and the diseased created a veil of misery and pain that permeated not only the air but the very foundations of the building. It felt like a ton of bricks as it settled across my shoulders, and it was a weight that made my back hunch, my knees buckle, and my breath stutter to a momentary halt.
Not that I really wanted to breathe. I didn't want to take that scent—that wash of despair and loss—into myself. And most especially, I didn't want to see the reapers and the tiny souls they were carrying away.
I was gripped by the sudden urge to run, and it was so fierce and strong that my whole body shook. I had to clench my fists against it and force my feet onward. I'd promised Mom I'd do this, and I couldn't go back on my promise. No matter how much I might want to.
I walked into the elevator and punched the floor for intensive care, then watched as the doors closed and the floor numbers slowly rolled by. As they opened onto my floor, a reaper walked by. She had brown eyes and a face you couldn't help but trust, and her wings shone white, tipped with gold.
An angel—the sort depicted throughout religion, not those that inhabited the real world. Walking beside her, her tiny hand held within the angel's, was a child. I briefly closed my eyes against the sting of tears. When I opened them again, the reaper and her soul were gone.
I took the right-hand corridor. A nurse looked up as I approached the desk. "May I help you?”
"I'm here to see Hanna Kingston.”
She hesitated, looking me up and down. "Are you family?”
"No, but her parents asked me to come. I'm Risa Jones.”