Chapter 4
Violet couldn't handle what she saw. She covered her mouth and burst into tears. Quigley handed her the baby and instructed her to go lay down.
Quigley rolled up his sleeves and walked towards Sunny, past her desk which was cluttered, but a particular paper stood out somehow. Quigley paid no attention but moved closer to Sunny. She lay in a pool of her own blood. She was on her side, her arms stretched out in front of her body. Her right hand was open, a razor just within reach. Quigley saw the blood pouring out of the vertical slits in Sunny's pale, thin wrists. He gulped. She meant business, he thought. He let out a sigh of relief when he knelt down and heard quick, short breaths escaping Sunny's lips.
"Call 911, Vi," Quigley yelled, "Sunny is alive." He picked up the girl and carried her downstairs, paying no attention to the blood staining his clothes—and his carpet. An ambulance arrived and immediately took Sunny to the hospital, Quigley driving behind them. Violet stayed at the house with Isabella.
Quigley sat in the waiting room for hours. He didn't sleep. His eyes were bloodshot – from crying and lack of sleep.
"Mr. Quagmire," Nurse Jenny said, "you may see Miss Baudelaire now."
Quigley stood up and followed the nurse. He must've looked like a serial killer. Blood was all over his khaki pants and had stained his white shirt a deep red which was now fading to brown.
He entered room 109 and saw a peaceful Sunny laying in a hospital bed. Thick white bandages with hints of red covered Sunny's forearms. She looked so peaceful. Her dark hair framed her face as she slept like an angel. He sat down and took her hand, falling asleep beside her.