Lost episode 16


Episode Sixteen

I turned to really confirm if he was actually the one calling my name.

My stepmom heard it too, so we had to confirm because it was just a whisper.

We both noticed that John had opened his eyes.

I asked her, “Should we take him to the hospital?” because I wasn’t thinking straight at the moment.

Her response was just the usual way she responded to things.

She said, “There’s no money in this house.”

Fūrious, I began questioning her. “What have you and dad been doing with my mom’s money?

In fact, there’s no need to ask that question now.”

I turned to John, and he was still breathing.

It seemed like he had just fāinted before or had been dēad for minutes.

He didn’t say anything else to me. He couldn’t speak again, although he tried to. I had to rush out looking for a cab.

Then, with the help of the driver, I dragged him inside.

His head was on my lāp while I rubbed his palms with my hands.

Please live for my sake, those were the only words I could say to him at that moment.

The only money I had with me was the 2000 naira I earned from selling water.

And that was barely enough for a hospital card, let alone the bills themselves.

I just believed that a miracle would happen, but I didn’t know how.

We arrived at the hospital, and luckily for me, the hospital card cost 2000 naira.

I just gave them the whole money for the card.

I didn’t even imagine what to tell my father when he finally asked for the money.

“Maybe I’ll just say I was robbed, and the money was taken from me,” I thought aloud.

I wasn’t even ready for that conversation.

I wished that the day mom was rushed to the hospital, she fought to live for me, just like John did.

He opened his eyes when I had lost hope.

Seeing him on the hospital bed reminded me of my mom and the day the doctor announced that she was gone.

I just wasn’t ready for such an announcement again.

After he was placed on the hospital bed and given a little medicine to sustain him a bit, the doctor called me to his office.

He was a man in his late 40s and had his own share of life experiences.

He had a neatly trimmed beard and a broad smile on his face when he spoke.

As I entered his office, still feeling weak from the shock, he said, “Miss Catherine, please have a seat.”

Even though I wasn’t comfortable sitting, I was eager to hear what he had to say because I was already on edge.

He asked, “How are you related to the patient, Miss? Is he your brother?”

Although I felt the question wasn’t necessary, I quickly responded to speed things up and find out what he had to say.

“Yes, doctor. He is my brother,” I replied.

After all, John had been like a brother and a father figure to me, and seeing him in the hospital bed was extremely painful.

“You should know that this isn’t a charity organization, Miss Catherine.

This is a hospital, and in order to properly treat your brother you will deposit an amount.

Besides because his condition is critical,” the doctor explained.

When I heard the word “critical,” my heart skipped a bit.

“Doctor, what do you mean by his condition is critical?”

I asked, desperately wanting to know if John would survive.

He replied, “He has a 50/50 chance of survival.

We can’t be certain if he’ll live unless you make a deposit so we can start treating him.”

I understood him clearly, even though there were some medical terms I didn’t fully understand.

He mentioned that John had internal bleeding, which meant that my dad had really hít him.

“I will never forgive that man,” I thought to myself.

He was truly a mōnster.

He gained so much happiness from hūrting other people, and John ended up in the hospital because of him.”

“How much can I deposit?”I asked.

I felt like there was no point in asking that question because I didn’t have any money on hand, and the other hawkers were barely surviving.

He stared at me for a while, and I guess he already knew I wouldn’t be able to afford the bills.

Finally, he asked, “Where are your parents?”

This question hīt me hard.

When it comes to parents, they’re the ones we usually turn to for help.

But in my situation, my father was the one putting me in this mēss.

There was no need to call him my father. I responded with rāge and a broken heart, “We don’t have parents.”

He shook his head. I don’t know if he believed me or not, but I just didn’t care.

He handed me the bill, which amounted to 30,000. My mouth dropped open when I saw the amount.

“Where does he expect me to get that kind of money?” I asked myself.

I didn’t even know where to start, and I had to help John.

“Doctor, please give me time to gather the money,” I pleaded with him, but he didn’t say a word.

Maybe he didn’t believe I could gather such a large amount of money.

I left the hospital to find the money.

I went to the other hawkers first and told them everything, but they all complained about not being able to make sales.

They helped out with whatever little they could.

I checked everywhere, but help wasn’t coming.

I started to imagine John leaving me too because there was no money for treatment.

It felt like everything was falling apart.

I didn’t even go back home because the people in the house didn’t care.

I sat outside, thinking about what else to do.

The only way was to go back to the hospital and ask for more time to raise the money.

When I finally walked in, I didn’t see the doctor.

As I opened the door to John’s room, he was sleeping peacefully.

Just as I was about to talk, the doctor saw me and said, “I was even looking for you, Follow me.”

I followed him, hoping to hear bad news.

But instead, he said with a broad smile, “Miss Catherine, someone came here and paid the hospital bill.

There’s no need to stress yourself to find the money.”

When I heard this, I collāpsed to the floor with joy.

Then I asked him, “Please sir, who paid the bills?”

He just smiled at me and said, “A Good Samaritan did, and the person asked me not to reveal their identity to you.”

I asked myself, “Who could it be?”
Thessycute Ekene

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