Fading Smiles

Hi. I'm Hannah. I'm fourteen years old. My mom went missing when I was three years old and I'm now living with my dad who drinks constantly. He is grieving over the loss of his wife, my mother. What can I do? I have to find her. How? I don't know.


4. We will Prevail

   BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.  I open my heavy eyes to a squint. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. "Kevin?", I gasp in pain. A blurry of white coats surrounds me as I open my eyes. Sugeons. One rushes to the door and calls my father's name.  "Hannah, are you with us?", a woman leans in and flashes a small light in my eyes. The car lights. The panic. I turn away from the light and wince at the sudden movement. My dad races in and pushes her aside. "Stop. You're scaring her," my dad rushes to my side and lays his big palms on my quivering shoulders. "Hanny..." I look into his bloodshot eyes. He must've restlessly stayed in the waiting room during the night. "Daddy-y-y...," my voice wobbled. He cares about me. He's concerned. "Hanny..," he wraps his arms around me gently and I manage to lift my heavy arm and pat him gently. I feel a glob forming in my throat as he sobs in my hair. "I thought I lost you....i can't...not now..not today," he pulls away from me and smiles. "Where's Kevin?", I look around the area, "Where...where is he?!"    My dad runs his shaky hand through his balding hair, "He's fine...he's undergoing surgery."  I question my dad, "Will he be okay? Was he badly hurt?" 


  My dad clasps his hands together and lowers his head. "DAD?", I ask, shaken. "He severely injured his right arm....he needs to have it amputated. He threw his arm in front of your body to save you. His torso is mashed up bad too...broke his leg too," he says slowly and sadly. "When will the surgery be fin..", I say.


 "Excuse me, sir...the boy just woke up," a male surgeon interrupts and dashes out. "Jesus Christ," my dad mutters as he exits the room. I get up and start to walk behind him when the surgeons block the exit. "S'cuse me," I mumble as I hobble. "Hannah, you have to rest. You'll see him later," the surgeons insist. "But I want to see him now," I continue walking. "Hannah!", the flashlight surgeon scolds me. I just keep on walking, "I'm fine!", I yell. The surgeons sigh in defeat and move. I sigh and move into the brighly-lit hallway. The surgeons follow. "Here he is," one surgeon points into a darker room a few rooms from mine. I stagger through the entry. My dad's hands are wrapped around Kevin's. He whispers things to him happily. When he sees me, he stops and clears his throat, "Kevin's fine....kinda." Kevin turns his head to face me. A dark red scar is traced over his left eye. His emerald eyes still prevail. "Han...", he smiles. I smile back. Kevin's face is marred with bruises and scars, but you could still see his beauty.

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