Chapter 70: Guilt
Torin Pov
Your mother was in an accident. She needs blood. Your blood.
The words ring in my ears continuously. My chest tightens, my breath shallow and I blur out everything around me until my third father’s voice comes through the speaker again. "Son, now is not the time to be zoning out now. I need you here." His tone is strained, trying to keep calm but failing miserably. This must be killing him a hundred times more than it’s killing me. Miles has always been the most sensitive of my parents; when I cried as a baby, he cried too.
"I’ll be right there, Father," I say quickly, hanging up and forcing myself to stand straight. My legs feel heavy, but I know I need to move. I need to leave now. But before that, I have to tell Lorali where I’m going, otherwise she’ll wake up confused, wondering why I disappeared.
I walk up the little dais stairs toward her room. Lorali is still bundled in blankets, her hair spilling across the pillow like a shadow, her breathing soft and steady. I crouch beside her, brushing my fingers lightly against her forehead. "Lorali," I whisper, trying to keep my voice patient despite the urgency clawing at me. "I have to go to the hospital. I’ll be back soon." My voice comes out laced with panic.
She stirs, lashes fluttering, half‑asleep. "Mm... okay," she mumbles, her voice thick with drowsiness. She waves me off weakly, pulling the blanket tighter around herself, curling deeper into its warmth.
I chuckle softly, despite everything, watching her return to slumber. I press a kiss to her forehead before standing, my chest aching, and rush to my closet. I grab the first things I see which are a pair of grey sweatpants and a loose white shirt. I slide into my tackies, mismatched and worn out. I know I look a mess, but I’m in too much of a rush to care. My mother is literally dying. At least, I think she is.
When I’m done dressing, I run downstairs and straight to the front door. I swing it open in one go and freeze. Why was it unlocked? Odd. I remember locking it before I went upstairs.
"When did it become unlocked?" I mutter under my breath.
I sigh, shaking my head. I can’t deal with this right now. Augi probably went out to a party and forgot to lock up. Another problem for another time.
Shoving the thought aside, I rush to the building’s underground parking, jump into my car, and drive out fast. The tires hum against the asphalt, the world blurring past me. At this hour, there’s no traffic. Just me, the road, and the pounding of my heart.
New Hope Hospital looms ahead, its lights stark against the night sky. I park recklessly, barely shutting the door before I’m sprinting into the tall building, my hair a mess and my breath ragged.
Inside, the reception desk glows under harsh bright lights. I slam my palms against the counter, leaning forward. "Mrs. Spade," I gasp. "Where is she? I need to see her."
The receptionist blinks, startled by my urgency. "Sir, please calm down. If you are looking for someone, I need proof of relation before I can—"
"I don’t have time for this!" My voice cracks. "She’s my mother! I need to know where she is!"
The receptionist shakes her head, unmoved by my outburst. "Sir, I understand you are frustrated, but it’s hospital policy. I cannot disclose patient information without proper documentation."
Her words hit me like a wall. My fists clench against the counter, my jaw tight. Policy. Rules. Paperwork. While my mother is bleeding out somewhere in this building.
"Torin!"
I hear a familiar voice and I turn my head. My third father is speed‑walking down the hall, his wide eyes locked onto me. Relief and panic collide in my chest. I rush forward, and he pulls me into a hug so tight I can barely breathe.
"Thank you for coming," he says, his voice trembling. "She needs you. Come, quickly."
I nod, my throat dry, my words caught somewhere between fear and guilt. I let him drag me down the corridor, my legs struggling to keep up with his pace. "What happened?" I demand to know. No one gets into a car accident in the middle of the night. Not without reason.
"I’ll explain later," Father says, his words rushed, his grip firm on my arm. "Right now, she needs you."
We reach the private room and my father swings open the door, and the sight inside nearly knocks me to my knees.
Jacob and Cedric, my other fathers, are already there. Their faces are pale, drained of color and their eyes hollow. They stand like statues, frozen in grief, staring at my mother, who lies on the bed, fragile and still, hooked up to machines. Tubes snake across her body, her chest rising shallowly, each breath looking like a battle. The beeping of monitors fills the room with a suffocating dread.
My stomach twists violently as guilt claws at me, tearing through my chest. I told her to die. I told her the world would be better without her. And now she’s actually about to die. My words echo like poison in my head. It’s all my fault. Why do I always say stupid things in anger? I should have never cursed her with those words.
"Doctor! Her son is here. Same blood type."
Dr. Quid nods, looking at me, his expression unreadable. "Good. Nurse, take him to the other room. Prepare him for a transfusion."
The nurse gestures at me quickly to follow her, and I force myself to leave the room, tearing my eyes away from my mother.
She leads me into another room which is smaller and crowded with a few others already donating blood. The air smells faintly of antiseptic and iron. I sink into a vacant chair, stretching out my arm. The nurse swabs my skin, her touch cold but gentle, before piercing me with the needle.
I watch as the blood flows, red against the clear tubing, filling the bag slowly. My throat tightens. Guilt presses down like a weight I can’t shake. This is what she needs. This is what I can give. After everything, after the venom I spat at her, this is all I can do.
"You’re doing well," the nurse murmurs softly. "Just a little longer." I nod, unable to speak, my eyes locked on the bag as it fills. My mind races. What if it’s not enough? What if she dies anyway? What if this is the last time I’ll ever be able to help her?