Havoc (Storm MC 7)

At what point do you give up in life?

I’d turned that thought over and over in my mind a lot during the last two years. I hadn’t come to a final thought on it yet. Watching my father with the doctor, I wondered what the catalyst had been for him. He’d given up. I was sure of that, but why?

Was it losing Mum?

Was it two years of being on his own and he was done?

Was it his deteriorating health?

Or something else?

The doctor came to me. “I want to admit him and keep an eye on him. Probably just overnight, just so we can keep track of his vitals. This constant chest pain has me concerned.”

“And the blood pressure?”

“We’ll need to tweak his medication. Hospital is the best option all round. I’ll call an ambulance to come get him now.”

“I can drive him.”

“I know, but with this pain, I want him monitored.”

Dad shot me a filthy look. “I don’t want to go to bloody hospital.”

My patience with him snapped. He’d been arguing with me most of the afternoon while we waited for the doctor and I was way past the point of caring what he wanted. “You’re going,” I yelled as I pointed at him. “I’m not arguing about this again.” With that, I strode into his bedroom, yanked his overnight bag out of his closet and threw some clothes and toiletries in there for him. I then took the bag and dumped it at the front door, ready for the ambulance.

“Havoc,” Yvette said in a tone that told me she thought I was being too harsh. “When I said I wanted you to get him looked at, I didn’t mean for you to spend all afternoon fighting with him.”

I stared at her in disbelief. “Well, what the fuck did you think was gonna happen? The old man’s as stubborn as hell, no way were we getting him there without an argument or two.”

“I just think you could go a little easier on him, that’s all.”

“Trust me when I tell you that I’ve been going easy all afternoon.” I took a deep breath. “He’s given up and I don’t fuckin’ like it.”

She frowned. “Given up on what?”

“Life.” Anger at that thought gripped me and I jabbed my finger at her. “I’m not letting him give up. I don’t care if I have to spend every minute of every fuckin’ day arguing with him, he’s not checking out.”

Without waiting for her reply, I headed back to where Dad sat in his armchair. He glared at me as I entered the room, but I ignored him. Taking a seat in the armchair next to his—Mum’s armchair—I solidified that declaration in my mind.

I would make sure my father got through whatever it was he was going through.

I refused to lose another parent before their time.

* * *

Yawning, I rubbed the back of my neck. It was just after nine that night and I was about to leave the hospital. Dad was fast asleep and the nurses assured me they would look after him.

I hadn’t heard from Carla, which surprised me. However, I loved the fact she gave me the space I needed.

I settled myself on my bike and sent her a text.

Me: You awake?

Carla: Yeah. How’s your dad?

Me: They admitted him to hospital, but he’s ok.

Carla: Glad to hear it.