She felt hands on her, felt herself being lowered into the chair, but everything else seemed to fade. The words - those same damn words kept surrounding her. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
Something snapped and she lunged at him, her hands clawing at his face, desperate to stop the sound. "I don't want to hear that!" She didn't recognize the scream. It wasn't anger. It wasn't even her. It was empty, raw agony. "What the hell does that do for me? For her?"
Hands were on her again, less gently this time. Arms wrapped around her body as she continued to thrash. "What did you do to my little girl, Kyle? What the hell did you do?"
Kyle shook his head at the orderly who offered him a hand as he attempted to stand. He watched silently as a nurse helped Nick usher a still screaming Phyllis into a small, private waiting area.
"I need to ..." There was a vague awareness that she was out of control, but she couldn't entertain the idea. Letting the thought settle, allowing the reality to take residence in her mind and soul would surely kill her. This way at least she could survive. She could exist. She could scream, and rage, and cry until she was too exhausted to think about anything - until maybe she would wake up to find none of this was true.
"Phyllis...Phyllis ... Please." Nick's voice was filled with desperation as he wrapped his arms tighter around her and slid down the wall onto the carpeted floor. He felt her body rock back and forth, her screams taking the place of the sobs he knew would soon come.
"Kyle," she bellowed, "You get in here. I will make you ... I will ..." She gasped for breath.
The sound of the door opened slowly and the nurse entered the room, her hand wrapped around the syringe.
"No," Nick eyed her angrily. "Just wait. Wait a minute. Give us a minute."
Quick glances were exchanged before they left the room though he could see through the glass enclosure that they still watched them closely. His own pain and grief fought desperately to show themselves, but he forced the feelings back. This was a well honed practice, a skill he'd sadly had to learn before. "Phyllis," he said again, feeling the strength that had been in her fight and restraint beginning to lessen. "I need you to listen to me, okay?"
Mere minutes ago he could not have imagined anything that would have brought him to this place, to a moment he would feel such genuine compassion and care for her. Mere minutes ago he could have never imagined he would bury another daughter.
"Nick."
It was the first word she'd spoken that hadn't been dripping in rage. This was a mere whisper - frail, hopeless, shaky. "Nick," she repeated, "She's not ..." She looked into his eyes, realizing suddenly that Summers were the same. "Please tell me she's not ..."
"I wish I could," he whispered. "I ..."
He felt her break, heard the anger shift, saw the rage that so often was her veil fall away from her. Words were empty. Tears would fade, but that pain, the gut wrenching pain would never ever end. A part of him had wanted her to pay for what she'd done to his sister, to his mother, and to Sharon, but never like this. No one deserved to live in a hell like this.
"Busy night," Jack said soberly as he followed Billy through the busy waiting area and scanned the room for Kyle.
"I guess so," Billy shrugged. He turned his head towards the small glassed in area in the corner, , his eyes immediately drawn there as if by some unseen force. He huffed at Jack. "Guess Nick forgives and forgets pretty quick huh? Wonder what that's about?"
Jack glanced over at Nick who now stood with his arm around Phyllis as they spoke to a young nurse. "I don't know," he admitted, "but I need to find Kyle and ..."
"Kyle?" Jack couldn't hide the surprised look on his face when his son nearly rushed into his arms. "I got here as quickly as I could. You sounded pretty serious on the phone." He pulled back, his hands firmly clasping his son's firm shoulders. "What happened?"
"Hey," he squeezed his shoulders a bit tighter under his hands. "You're scaring me here, son. Is Lola alright?"
Kyle struggled, the words he needed to use feeling foreign and wrong. Of all the words he could ever use to describe Summer, dead should never ever be one of them.
"It's not Lola," he finally managed.
"Not Lola?" Billy's voice was confused. Certainly his attention was divided at the moment, but surely he knew who the major players were. "I thought the transplant surgery was today."
"It is. It was. The transplant was fine. Lola got the liver. She's good. It's good. It's just ..." He trailed off ... "The donor ..."
Donor. What a horrible, impersonal, wretched thing to say. It should have been him. He should have been the one to go.
"The donor had complications?" Jack watched the struggle. "If they need additional treatment and it's a money issue then..."
Kyle shook his head. "Money can't fix this, Dad."
Jack stilled. He almost never called him that. It made him sound so young, so vulnerable.
"I really messed up and I don't think anyone will ever forgive me. I wouldn't. I won't."
"Kyle," Jack stepped in closer to him, his mind filling with horrific scenarios of black market organ sales and the like. "What did you do?"
"She's dead. I killed her."
Jack quickly looked around the room, hopeful no one had overhead the words. He gestured to the chairs closest to them and waited until the three of them were seated close together before beginning to speak. "Don't be ridiculous, son. You didn't kill anyone." He said the words with conviction as his eyes held steady with those of his son. "Right? Just tell me what happened."
"I made it happen. She never would have done this if it wasn't for me. She never would have gone through with it. She thought if she did this that it would prove how much she loved me, how much she was willing to sacrifice for me and I was so damn selfish that Zi let her do it and now ..."
"Now my daughter is dead."
Her voice was no longer trembling as she stood behind him. "And you were right the first time, Kyle Abbott. You killed my daughter and I'm going to make damn sure you spend the rest of your miserable life paying for it."