They finally arrive at Meredith's house after the quiet drive, both too deep in their own thoughts to carry on an intelligible conversation and neither daring to break the silence
Derek rests his forehead against the cold glass of his father's car. The dilapidated buildings blur together as they make their way out of Meredith's neighborhood and back towards the hospital. His hot breath causes the window to fog, only further obstructing his vision.
"She can't stay there," he whispers as he closes his eyes, the hum of the engine of the car only increasing his nausea.
He can hear his father sigh in the driver's seat. "I know, son," he responds in a hushed voice as he turns up the defroster.
His fingers play with the threads from the frayed handle of Meredith's bag as his gaze drops to the floor board. The warmth from the heaters have displaced the cold from her apartment, but fail to displace the chill that now inhabits his marrow from seeing the horrid conditions in which she lived.
"What do we do?" he asks as he turns to his father, his eyes full of confusion and desperately seeking help.
His father sighs heavily as the car comes to a stop at a red light. "We talk to her. We can't force her," he says as he looks at his son. His heart breaks for his son as Derek looks completely shattered.
Derek slowly nods his head before turning back to stare at the passing images.
--
Meredith plays with the loose threads at the end of the warm blanket covering her. The sounds of the television fill the room, but she isn't paying attention. Her eyes are looking out the window. The snow has started falling again. She used to love the snow. Snow to her was romantic. It meant curling up together in a blanket next to the fire while drinking a hot cup of coco.
Now. Now it means desolation. Loneliness. Now it means a cold night with her curling up in her tattered quilt as she tries desperately to stay warm.
He is going to see her apartment. He is going to see so much of her current soul. Not the soul she was on the cruise. Not the soul that was happy. The now soul. The tormented soul. The lonely soul. He is going to see that soul and he isn't going to like it. What will he say? What will he think? Will he hate her for how she has been living?
He should. Hell. She hates herself.
She inhales deeply as the snowfall increases. She can vaguely hear the howling of the wind from the outside. For some insane reason, she finds solace in the chaos that exists outside the walls of the hospital. It lets her know that she is not alone. Not completely.
The silenced monitors begin to beep loudly as the white sheets of snow fade to black.
--
Dr. Shepherd parks the car in the parking lot designated for doctors. He turns off the ignition before turning to look at his son. "Don't push her. She seems like the type that would push back," he says as his son raises his eyes to his.
Derek chuckles lightly as he shakes his head. "That she is. It's one of the things I lov...like about her," he says as he catches himself.
Derek's father smiles sadly at his son. "It's okay to love her. I know you do. She may not be ready to hear it, but it is okay that you feel that way," he says as he reaches out and places a hand on Derek's shoulder.
"No. It's not. It's not okay that I feel this way. It's not okay that every time I close my eyes, I see her. I see her shivering under that fucking tattered blanket as she tries to stay warm, wanting nothing more than to take her into my arms and fight away the cold. I see her living off of crackers and water. I see her struggling. I see her barely getting by as I sit here having more than I need. It's not okay. Nothing is okay. Nothing," he says as his voice trembles from emotion.
"You're right. It's not okay. It's not okay that that young woman is in there lying in a hospital bed, both her life and that of my grandson in jeopardy and all you are concerned about is how you feel. You are right. It's not okay," his father tells him in an angry voice before opening his door and leaving Derek sitting all alone in the car.
His father is right. He knows that he is right. Derek has been so worried with how he is feeling that he has forgotten about how Meredith feels. He was too worried about how her situation made him feel that he was starting to forget that he doesn't matter. It doesn't matter how he feels. All that matters is how Meredith feels and that she gets better.
He quickly grabs her bags out of the floorboard and exits the car. He needs to see her. He just needs to see her. He runs across the parking lot, the snow falling heavy, blanketing him in a moist layer of white.
He blindly makes his way through the hospital. When he arrives at her room, he isn't exactly sure how he has gotten there. He is one step away from entering her room when he hears the loud beeping of a monitor.
He stops in his tracks, the fear stilling him instantly. It takes a moment for him to regain control over his body and enter the room. As he crosses the threshold of the room, he is forced to support himself against the frame of the door as the sight that greets him is the scariest he has ever seen.
Lying on the bed is Meredith. The color is drained from her face. Her eyes are closed and her face is turned towards the window and the linens that surround her already frail body are covered in blood.