Death - I

"Are you a girl?" 

Brandon turned to the woman sitting a seat over. She was old, middle aged for possibly above and looked like she was angry at the world. 

"I beg your pardon?" 

Dread started to creep in, and it created a deep void inside his chest. Maybe, he had heard her wrong…

"Are you, what do they call it.. trans?" She accused again, instead of possibly asking. "You look like a girl, I know what that means. You are one of those crazy people."  

"Cra–" Brandon stopped himself. " not only have you called me transgender, told me I look like a girl, now you tell me that I'm crazy too?" He asked, quite amazed by her deduction. 

"If not, why are you here?" 

Brandon wanted to roll his eyes but his manners held him back. He considered not answering the woman who had the most atrocious questions he had ever been asked. "Miss. I come to the hospital to visit my sick grandfather two times a day." 

It hurt being called a girl, it opened up a wound he had closed long ago.

"Huh," She said like she still did not believe him. "I—" 

Brandon's eyes moved to glance at the room his grandfather was in. The male nurse stepped out and as if knowing Brandon was looking at him, gave him a smile.  

He stood up and moved towards the room, ignoring the presence of the woman on the way. He stepped into the room of his grandfather but knocked on the door for attention. 

"Bran!" Charles Wallace smiled brightly. "Come in, dear boy!" 

"Thank you, Grandpa. How are you doing today?" Brandon took the chair next to the bed. 

"I think-" he coughed, "I-I am q-quite wel-l." He continued coughing which resulted in his face becoming extremely red.

"Calm down, Grandpa. Don't talk." Brandon instructed as he got up. "I will get you some water." 

He got a glass of water but by the time he did, his grandfather's cough had become progressively worse. 

Shit, he cursed. "Hold on, I am going to call a doctor!" 

He moved two steps towards the door before remembering that there was about an inside. He pulled himself back, almost throwing himself into deduction of the button and slammed his hand on it. 

"Hold on, grandpa." He begged, "Just hold on for a second—" 

The door burst open. "I need a crash card! Stat!" The doctor yelled behind her back before her eyes found Brandon. "You, out. Now." 

Brandon did not miss a second and ran out of the room, almost crashing into the cart, but side stepped it just in time. 

He heard everything. From the yells of the doctor, to the commands, they were giving, to the charge and the 'clear'.

They did it again, and he heard the thump of his grandfather's body hitting the bed. 

Brandon closed his eyes, his hands already joined together in motion to pray. 

'Please,' he prayed, 'not him. Not him.' 

The doctor rushed out commands and Brandon felt their panic too, which is why he kept his eyes closed, not being able to see any of it, and if it were possible, he would have closed his ears as well. 

But then, wooden seconds, everything became quiet. Deadly quiet.

Brandon carefully opened his eyes just as the doctor stepped out. "I assume you are MR. Wallace's next of kin?" 

Carefully, he moved his head. "Yes. Grandson." 

"I'm quite sorry, Mr. Wallace. But your grandfather is no more." The doctor touched his shoulder and sympathy, squeezing it before she left. 

No more. 

His grandfather, the patriarch of the Wallace family, was dead.