It was a mostly silent ride to the hospital. I sat in the back with Phil, letting him lie down across the other two seats and rest his head on my lap. I twisted my fingers through his dark hair, almost content to just watch him sleep. Every bump in the road we hit seemed to trigger a coughing fit, and all I could do was rub his shoulder and hope it would soothe him. It seemed to. Billy would once in a while ask if he was alright; I never answered. I didn't know whether I could say yes or no, so I just said nothing.

When we got there, I took Phil to the waiting room while Billy went up to the reception desk. I watched from a chair while the man seemed to have no idea what he was doing, and spoke rather rudely to the receptionist. I almost wanted to go up there and tell him I'd take over from there, but I couldn't bring myself to leave Phil alone here.

He was struggling to stay awake now, sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chair next to me, forcing his eyes to stay open and letting his head flop down onto my shoulder every once in a while. I smiled and rubbed his back.

Billy came back and said we'd have to wait maybe an hour or more, and seemed really sour about it. I could understand the impatience, but I knew this kind of setting well, and knew it took a while in an ER to sort the more urgent cases from the lesser ones. I grazed my fingers over Phil's forehead; he was really warm, but not enough to be of any immediate concern.

"Did Boss finally come to his senses?" Billy hissed, trying to keep quiet so no one would hear. I decided to follow suit.

"Uh, yeah," I answered, face burning in embarrassment as I tried to figure a way out of the lie I'd told earlier. No, I wasn't a prostitute. Did I look like one to him? I looked like— I looked like I hadn't showered or changed my clothes in over a week, and smelled like sweat and the greasy fast food Dane gave the girls and Phil. That and how I'd actually told him that, yes, I was a prostitute working for Dane, it was going to be difficult to wiggle my way out of this.

"So what's your name?"

"Cocoa," was the first name to come to mind. I didn't know what made me give this as an answer, but I'd almost stuttered out my real name first, and stopped myself with whatever came out next.

"But you're white."

I sighed and didn't let the conversation go any further. I was grateful that this man had come and gotten Phil and brought him here, but that gratitude was as far as I wanted my acquaintance with him to go. I had little interest in actually getting to know him, or letting him know me beyond a fake name I came up with on the spot.

Phil turned and curled against me, pressing himself as close as the arm rests between us would allow. I ran my fingers through his hair, reminding him in his compromised consciousness that I was here and not going anywhere, and he seemed to calm down a bit at that. I smile and kissed his burning forehead. I knew he and I weren't anything more than friends, but something about the chaste, not lip-to-lip kisses felt kind of right in my head, and he didn't seem to mind. In fact, by the way he was smiling a little, even with his eyes closed and maybe asleep now, I had to figure he might've liked it as much as I did.

It wasn't too long –maybe an hour, hour and a half— before a the receptionist finally called for Phil to be taken in. It still felt like much longer than it should've taken, though, the waiting room nearly empty and no one having been called up in ages. I nudged Phil awake, and he opened his tired eyes up only briefly before they fell shut again, and soon he was wrapped up in another coughing fit. I winced and tried to get him to his feet. He felt like a ragdoll in my arms as I pulled him up to stand.

A nurse came and helped me with him, and the two of us managed to get him through the double doors and down the hall to an empty room, and laid him down in an empty bed –poor Phil hacking his lungs out all the while.

"Are you of any relation to the patient?" she asked.

"Yeah, he's my brother." Another stunning, unwanted and unnecessary lie; I was on a roll with those tonight.

"Well, we'll let you know how things go. If you could go back to the waiting room?"

I nodded silently, and told Phil I'd be right down the hall, and to tell the nurse or doctor if he needed me. Phil nodded weakly in response, and I left.

"So, Cocoa, what's your story?"

I crossed my arms over my chest. I still didn't want to speak to Billy, and if he wasn't the only means of transportation we had, I'd kindly ask him to leave. I didn't appreciate him trying to be all friendly with me, especially since we were alone outside the building, getting some fresh air, and he thought I was a prostitute. It made my stomach turn to be alone with him, but the waiting room was stuffy and I told myself I wasn't afraid. Still, I had no desire interact with this man any more than I needed to.

"Are you working tonight?"

"No," I answered defensively, and gulped down the lump in my throat. He shrugged and pulled a box of cigarettes out of his pocket, offered me one, and lit one for himself at my declination.

"You sure you're not up for a good time?" he asked again, smirking slimily. He reached a hand toward my thigh. My brain short-circuited as his dirty fingers brushed the leg of my jeans, and it took me a moment to react. I batted the hand away, frightened and furious now.

"No!" I screeched, and worried someone might think –correctly— that I might be in trouble. For the sake of this, at least, I kept up the volume and tone. "My friend's sick in the hospital right now and the only reason I'm still here –with you, of all people— is so I can find out if he's gonna be okay! Now, don't you fucking dare touch me or I'll call the police, I swear I will!"

"And when they find out you're a dirty hooker?"

I was honestly terrified now, horrified at the idea that he might actually try something. My heart pounded in my ears and I pressed myself up against a pillar, away from him. I didn't think to run away, or back inside. I couldn't think at all, I could only react, quivering all over, and shout at him. "They're- They're gonna arrest you for sexual assault if you lay a finger on me!"

"And they'll arrest you for prostitution, lovely." He grinned a nauseating grin, and I fought the urge to vomit. "Wouldn't want that. Now, come on. We both know it's not up to you; do I have to call the Boss and get him to sign off on it? It's him I'd have to pay."

And I couldn't hold the bile down any longer. But at least I had the consciousness to aim well.

"Fuck!" he shouted, cringing at the former contents of my stomach now displayed on his shirt. "Fuck you, bitch!" I laughed weakly as he stormed off.

A nurse ran out and asked what had happened, and if I was alright. I nodded and went back in with her.

I didn't have long to wait there before in came the absolute last man I wanted to see. Dane approached the reception desk, asking where Phil was, claiming himself to be Phil's father and coming all worried, and wanting to get him home. A doctor came through the doors just then, and I overheard the conversation.

"We've given him antibiotics, but it doesn't seem to be doing much. It'll turn into pneumonia if not treated properly, and it'd be best if he stay a few days." I subconsciously agreed, wincing at the thought of Phil developing pneumonia, but not thinking it was a shock.

"I'll take care of him at home, I will. I just need to get him back, his mother's waiting and worried sick."

"I really must insist, sir—"

And then another week voice joined in, one I could barely hear, but easily made it out to be Phil's voice.

"I wanna go home with Daddy."

The doctor looked more than a little concerned, with the very ill patient standing there in the doorway, pill bottles in hand and looking barely conscious. I kind of wanted to scream, but my throat was sore. I knew the doctor could only let the patient go if he insisted, which Phil did and did again when asked. They couldn't keep him, and god I wish they could.

I watched as Dane wrapped an arm around Phil's waist, and led him to the door. I couldn't help him spotting me. Our eyes met for a moment, and then Dane gestured for me to stand up. I didn't fight it, and got to my feet immediately, shaking. He gave me a small smile.

"Come on, Cocoa, let's go home."