Hell with my father

Chapter - 159

The fluorescent lights of the hospital corridor flickered, casting a sterile glow on the tiled floor. The air smelled of antiseptic and some sort of detergent, a heady mix that clung to his skin and made his head hurt.

Rick made his way through the sterile corridors of the hospital, his footsteps echoing against the linoleum floors. The weight of the situation bore heavily on his shoulders as he approached the ICU ward, where Emily lay in a fragile state.

He'd just taken his meds in the car—a bitter cocktail of painkillers and antibiotics. The stitches on his leg pulled with every step, a reminder of that bastard plunging in the forceps. His ribs felt like they were encased in a vise, and the dull ache in his chest threatened to swallow him whole.