my tears ricochet

Chapter Sixty Five

It didn't matter that Phillip was dead. It didn't matter that Daryl had taken the monster and broken him down into pieces. A small piece of him would live on forever inside of his daughter's mind, a horrible snarl of nightmares and infection, the shadow catching at the light of a candle.

They moved together in sync. Maggie yanked the blanket back fully while Daryl positioned Ivy's arm around his neck before sweeping her up. It hurt her, despite his intentions, jostling Ivy as he jammed his feet into his boots, stepping out the door that Maggie held wide open.

The last time Daryl had carried Ivy, she had been unconscious from blood loss and shock. The feeling of her dead weight in his arms had haunted him days afterwards; carrying the memory of her head falling backwards, her arm limp around him. This version of Ivy was a bundle of nerves, bright from pain and fever. Daryl couldn't fix it. He couldn't keep her from hurting. Ivy cried as he ran, her hands clinging and clawing at his shoulder.

It was a three block distance from the house converted into a clinic and it felt like miles. Maggie managed to get ahead and flung the door open, snapping for Bob while Daryl practically threw himself through. He spotted one of the beds in the side room and placed her down gently in the nearest one.

Ivy didn't want to let go. Her fingers were caught in the material of his shirt, twisting and clinging, tight enough that he needed both Bob and Maggie to help pry her off. "Hey, hey," Daryl coaxed, catching her as she tried to pull herself off of the narrow bed. "Gotta stay put, kid. C'mon sweetheart."

She wasn't listening. A fire was burning her up from inside her bones, poisoning her in a slow wave.

"Where the hell is Pete?" Maggie demanded as she tried to frame Ivy's face with her hands to keep her steady. Movement was making the pain worse but Ivy couldn't settle down, fighting the way she always had.

The man suddenly glided into the room, bright in his white jacket. "I'm right here. What's happening?"

How often was this room used, Daryl wondered, when there wasn't any blood visible?

"I think she's having an appendicit-"

"Whoa," Pete cut her off, taking a seat on a rolling chair and sliding up close to the bed. "Where did you get your medical degree from? These things aren't often serious. What are the chances that this is just menstrual cramps?"

"You're looking at this and you wanna call it 'menstrual cramps'?" Maggie sneered. "She's burning up, the pain is coming from her lower right-hand side of her stomach. Can't get her to eat anything. What the hell do you think it is?"

Bob silently caught one of Ivy's hands gently in a loose grip, slipping his fingers along her wrist to find her pulse.

"Please, make it stop. I can't take it," she whispered, gazing up to the white washed ceiling. "It hurts so bad, he's here again and it hurts."

"She the one with the hearing?" Pete asked, leaning forward. When he tried to lift her shirt she pushed back, a desperate little reaction triggered by the motion. "I can't do anything if she won't settle."

"Hey, do you remember a little thing called bed side manners?" Bob chipped in, a bit of ice laced through his tones. "Ivy, hey. Eyes on me, girl."

He kept his movements easy, letting her track him as he eased up the material of her shirt to show her stomach. Bob did a quick examination and his brow furrowed. "Yeah, everything looks lined up for an appendicitis. We'll have to take it out."

Pete gave a jerky nod, rolling backwards on the chair to get away from the bed. His face suddenly looked tense and he got up to unlock a cabinet and peer within at the contents. "You know, I used to line up three of these in the morning and spend the afternoon golfing. They're that easy. But now, it's risky. Everything is risky but there's a couple new variables that come with cutting someone open and hoping for the best."