Classic Novel
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Chapter 12
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Chapter 12 Belonging © NôvelDram/a.Org.
The next day, I interrogated Lydia. Through tears, she told me that five years ago, Elena had been in a car accident and had remained in a coma. Her parents had been taking care of her and had spent a significant amount of money
on her medical care.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You hated her, didn’t you? I was afraid you’d disapprove of me taking care of Elena, so I kept
her hidden…”
“Do you think I would abandon her on the street?” I cut her off.
She looked stunned. “Noel, you’ve never been
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angry with me before. I can’t believe you’re yelling at me because of Elena…”
“Stop the excuses. Take me to see her.”
For some reason, I suddenly felt overwhelming disdain for Lydia. This feeling had been growing since the day Elena left, accumulating over
time.
Lydia tried to make a phone call, but I knew something was off, so I snatched her phone
away.
“Don’t play games with me. If you do, I won’t hold back!”
Terrified, Lydia reluctantly led me to Elena.
When we arrived, Lydia’s mother answered the
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door. Her panic was evident as she tried to shut it, but I blocked the door with my arm.
The smell of medicine filled the room.
As I stepped inside, I saw a girl lying in bed with a respirator. I barely recognized her as Elena.
She was swollen all over, her eyes tightly shut, motionless.
The respirator had left deep indentations on her face.
Her exposed arms bore horrifying scars.
There were several more scars on her wrists.
It was clear now why she used to wrap her hands in scarves.
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My throat tightened, and I asked hoarsely, “What happened to her?‘
“She’s just in a coma…” Lydia’s mother said softly.
“How long has she been like this?”
No one answered me.
I prepared to call for emergency help.
Lydia’s mother stopped me. “You can’t make the call, and you can’t take her away.”
“Get out of my way!” I restrained my anger. “I’ll find out exactly how she ended up like this, and then I’ll hold you all accountable.”
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I dialed emergency services, and Elena was soon transferred to the hospital.
The doctor informed me that Elena was brain–dead–effectively, she had been dead for
five years.
Her arms were covered in needle marks.
The doctor explained that she had been injected with too many blood–boosting hormones,
which caused her body to swell.
A sharp pain twisted in my chest.
My stomach churned, and I vomited.
How had she lived through these five years?
I asked the doctor, “Is there any chance she
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could wake up?”
The doctor shook his head. “It’s impossible. It’s best to let her go. This body is now just a shell without a soul. Letting her go would be a mark of respect.”
But I couldn’t accept that she was just going to slip away like this.
I wished so much that she could wake up.
I longed to hear her call me “brother” once
more.