Hi again. I got some free time from working to write another chapter. I do hope you get enjoyment out of it, unless I've done a bad job with writing and remaining true to the characters which at times feels so. I hope my English is okay too. Thank you for inspiring me to write many times, I never dreamed for such kindness on here!

Chapter 8

Red knew something was wrong the instance he signaled right, giving way to an oncoming car before accelerating into the main street to where Sam and Lizzy lived.

He saw the flashing lights from a fair distance away, even although it wasn't dark and it was still in the early hours of the morning. The strobe lights seemed to reflect off the slick, wet road.

Something was wrong. Something was wrong at the house with Sam.

He pulled over to the side of the road, unbuckling his seat belt and abandoning Sam's car once the scene at the house was more comprehensible to him. He rushed towards the scene with unsteady legs, his breaths misting from the frigidity in the air, aghast at what he saw. An EMT van was parked in the driveway of the house. Two men were already unloading a stretcher from in the back of the van, preparing to take it inside to assist Sam.

It was in highly stressful times like this that Red felt as though he could use a cigarette. He patted down the left pocket of his trench coat, feeling the carton out. But when Sam finally appeared, strapped to the stretcher, he decided it could wait for a few minutes, at the very least. Finding out what was happening to his longest friend was far more important.

He felt as though an iron hand had stabbed through his stomach, reaching towards his heart, grasping it suffocatingly tight in its unrelenting grip as he rushed towards where they were wheeling his friend on the stretcher. Up closer, Red heard how strenuously Sam was breathing, one hand clutched around the left side of his chest, his skin as grey as parchment. The hair on his scalp was damp, his face glistening with a sheen of sweat.

"What's going on, Sam?" Red didn't know how he could muster up the courage to speak, but somehow he had managed. "Are you all right?"

"I... I'm fine, Ray. Don't look so scared. Just woke up with sharp chest pains and felt dizzy this morning, that's all. Thought I was near to having a heart attack so I called the ambulance. I'm sure it's nothing serious."

"Has this happened before? The chest pains?"

"It happened once before while Butterball was at school. I never ended up telling her about it though, for obvious reasons. Not sure if these jokers will want me to stay in the full night this time to run some tests and keep check on me."

"What are you going to do about Lizzy, Sam? What should I tell her?"

Sam sighed loudly, hissing in pain. "Just tell her to come to the hospital if you need to. But whatever you do, just promise me you won't tell her about this, about the... the chest pains. She'll panic and I don't want her to. Like I said, it's probably nothing. It's probably just a false alarm, that's all."

"Of course, Sam. I won't tell her."

Elizabeth stopped writing for a moment, rereading the paragraph she had just written for the introduction of her assignment. She found school so boring and couldn't wait until it was all truly over. It was only something that filled in her time, really.

Licking her lips, she scrawled out the word she had accidentally repeated. Then there came a knock on the classroom door, interrupting everyone from starting their assignments. When she brought her eyes up towards the door curiously as her teacher strode towards it to answer it, she felt a thrum of anxiety in her chest when she watched the woman from the reception desk look in her direction quickly as she said something in a low, hushed voice to her teacher.

Her teacher turned to look at Elizabeth as well, then with not wanting to disrupt any other students in the class by speaking while they were attempting to do the start of their assignments in peace and quiet, he made a gesture with his hand, beckoning her to stand from her desk.

She had never been called out of class early before and her eyebrows furrowed as she stood quickly, tucking in her chair. She reached down to grab her bag, shoving the strap on over her shoulder while collecting her textbooks all up.

It was only when she followed the kind woman from behind the reception desk at the front office that she suspected something may have been wrong. The woman must have recognized how worried she was, because she smiled at her reassuringly.

"Your not in trouble or anything like that, Elizabeth" the woman assured her softly. "A young man just came into the front office claiming to be a friend of your father's. He said something had happened at home and that you would need to leave school early today."

Elizabeth's brisk walking beside her faltered slightly at the woman's words. Was something wrong with her father? Was it Kenneth that had come to pick her up from school early?

When they reached the main entrance, Elizabeth's eyes darted around frantically, searching every corner of the room. She didn't find Kenneth anywhere.

"He just stepped outside," the woman explained, returning behind the reception desk. "You'll have to sign out for the day, honey." It was something the students were required to do when leaving the school premises early. She reached down beneath the desk, bringing out the large sign book. She opened it up, rifling through the pages to find the day's date, then she handed Elizabeth a pencil.

Elizabeth's fingers shook uncontrollably as she flexed them over the thin pencil, trying to write down her name and sign off with her signature as neatly as she possibly could. She could not escape the unnerving feeling that something terrible had happened. Why else would someone come to collect her, making her have to leave school earlier than usual?

When she pushed the door open and stood outside the building, a shiver rippled through her. It was still wet and rainy and she wished she had thought of bringing a jacket today. She glanced along the parking lot worriedly, hoping to catch sight of her father's cherished red Pontiac. When she did, Kenneth immediately came into view, and her heart leaped in her chest.

He was standing around near the back taillights with one hand tucked into the side pocket of his long black trench coat, his head ducked towards the ground as he paced back and forth. The repetitive motion made Elizabeth feel even more anxious, her heart racing. He was smoking, she realized, as she started strolling slowly towards where he was waiting. Smoke was rising into the air as he exhaled the cigarette smoke out through his mouth.

Elizabeth hated the habit of smoking with a vengeance, believing it to do far worse than good. She had been so relieved when her father quit smoking, fearing it would effect his health and do damage irreparably.

"Hi," she spoke apprehensively once she reached him. "What's going on? Or did you just do this on purpose because you wanted to break me out of school?"

Kenneth gave her a small, tight-lipped smile as he brought the cigarette up to his parted lips, inhaling it in again. His cheeks were flushed pink from the cold air, his hair ruffled in the breeze. She noticed his forefinger and middle finger trembling in distress as he tore the cigarette away, puffing out smoke into the opposite direction from where she was standing.

"Actually as much as I would love nothing more than for that to be my main reason for being here, unfortunately that's not it." Kenneth was speaking the words softly to the tip of his shoes, his head still dropped low. He wouldn't look her directly in the eye. "Unfortunately I'm only just going to be the bearer of bad news. I have to take you to the hospital."

Her heart froze in her chest as dread lanced through her. Apparently she had been right, in her suspicions. Something had happened to her father. "Take me to the hospital?" she repeated in a strained murmur. "Why? What's wrong?"

He had not been prepared for this. He had not been prepared to have to tell Lizzy that her father had been taken to the hospital in the morning, that Sam had been suffering from chest pains when he woke. He found he could hardly bear to so much as peer up at her face, to see what was going on through that mind of hers.

"Is it about my father?" she questioned, and he heard the way her voice broke and shook when she mentioned the word father. "Is something wrong with my father? It's him that's in the hospital, isn't it?"

Red stared fixedly at a spot near his shoes on the damp gravel, suddenly wishing he had the power to vanish as a way to escape this situation entirely. It was all so horribly miserable and bleak. When he had decided to visit Sam, to see Lizzy now that she had gotten older, he hadn't been anticipating for this to happen where he would be forced into an incredibly difficult situation such as this.

"Tell me," she demanded unsteadily, stepping closer into his line of vision.

He saw how she lifted a hand, hesitating, before she reached up to lay her hand flat against the side of his cheek, stroking it with her soft, delicate fingers. His eyes snapped closed at her relaxing touch as he unconsciously leaned into it, the blood draining from his face. He could have had her touching him for years and years on end and even then, he wouldn't have gotten sick of it. There was something so unfathomably cathartic about the little girl that he had rescued from the house fire touching him now that she had grown to become a woman.

It occurred to Red yet again slowly of how wrong every part of this was, to Sam especially, and so deliberately he jerked his head away.

"Please. There's something wrong with my father, isn't there? Something that you know about and now your nervous to tell me?"

She was standing so close that she might as well have been kissing him. When he lifted the cigarette to press it into his lips again, to inhale in, he felt his arm brush against her shoulder. He had since passed feeling prudishly coy when someone invaded his personal space, but the fact that it was Lizzy doing it... it made the small hairs on the back of his neck stick up on end.

"You're right. Something is wrong with your father." He squinted through the haze of cigarette smoke at a loose bit of asphalt on the ground near his shoe, his eyes stinging. "It's why he went to the hospital this morning. Sam, he... he thinks he may be required to stay there overnight."

"Why? Why would he be required to stay there overnight?"

"I'm not so sure the real reason to that myself, Lizzy." The way she was putting him on the spot made him agitated. He really wished she would stop. "I suppose you'll just have to wait to ask your father yourself once we get to the hospital and find the room that he is staying in, won't you?"

Sam's words came rushing back to him as he shifted his shoes, listening to the crunching noises the ground gave out beneath them. Already it felt as though his heart was inflating with guilt for keeping what he knew from her. It was a sensation he did not like feeling at all.

He felt so unbearably conflicted with wanting two different things; He wanted to tell Lizzy, to be able to reassure her that everything with Sam was going to turn out all right. Yet, contradicting that, he knew the pledge he had made to Sam. Red had assured Lizzy's father that he would not reveal too much to her. Sam hadn't wanted Lizzy to worry- as he considered it unnecessary.

But throughout the years of their friendship, Red had become familiar with the sort of man Sam was; Sam was a silent battler, and he preferred to battle his demons in private. If he found himself in any sort of trouble whether it be financial or otherwise, the very last thing Sam did was ask anybody for help. He was far too... proud to ask. He often much preferred to deal with his problems on his own.

And Red had sworn he wouldn't reveal anything important to Lizzy, anything that would worry her. It was difficult, because lying to her was beginning to feel like one of the most hardest things he would ever have to do. But it was important to, and he had sworn and made a promise to Sam. When a friendship has been established for as long as theirs had, you did not just turn your back on your friend and break your word. Loyalty and trust were high traits on Red's moral compass, and he was certainly not going to betray his good friend now, no matter how hard Lizzy insisted on otherwise.

He peered at the yellowed nicotine staining the end of the cigarette before he flicked the rest of it away to the ground carelessly with his thumb, his need for a cigarette to calm his nerves sated.

"He's my father," Lizzy went on incessantly in a low, strangled murmur. With excruciating difficulty, Red finally lifted his gaze to meet hers, his heart clenching in pity for her. He could tell that she was fixing to cry. Her blue eyes were wide, moisture brimming in them, her jaw tight, strands of her long hair blowing in the breeze. "I think I have a right to know what's going on with my very own father, don't I? If something is seriously wrong with him, then I... I deserve to be told, Kenneth."

He sighed loudly through his nose, rolling his jaw muscles side to side, indecision plaguing him. But he knew what was right, and what he should do. It mightn't have been right for her, but it was right nevertheless.

"And I can understand that. I can understand your need to know, as Sam's daughter. But I'm so, so terribly sorry, Lizzy. I can't tell you," he said regretfully, his voice tight, strained.

She was standing so close, her face so close to his as her eyes bore into his. He saw the quiet annoyance and fury that passed in them, the hurt, but despite that, he was not intimidated. Rarely few could intimidate him nowadays, and he much preferred to do the intimidating himself. He knew what was right, what was justified, in his mind.

"You have to understand that I've been close friends with Sam long before you were even a mere fetus in your mother's womb," he explained to her quietly but sharply. "I made a promise to the man when I saw him being taken away by the ambulance this morning that I wouldn't say anything. Sam wanted to spare you from all of this unnecessary worry, knowing that you would overthink it. So due to that, I'm certainly not going to go back on my promise to your father to tell you anything of what's happening to him now."

"Fine. Don't tell me what's really going on with my father then." She stepped back in aggravation, tears trickling down her cheeks. "I suppose I'll just find out from him at the hospital anyway."

"Good. Now that that's over, let's get you into the car before you freeze to death otherwise you'll be the one checking into the hospital alongside your father as well for hypothermia," Red said dismissively, walking around to the opposite side of the car to hold the door open for her.

The drive towards the hospital was silent and tense. Lizzy said not a word to him as she sat slumped in the seat, dabbing at her eyelids now and then to hide her tears from him.

While Red could truly understand her frustrations and where they stemmed from, it could not be helped. It was not his right to say what was happening with Sam. It was not his choice to make on telling her about Sam's health. However, it became clear to him that Lizzy could not understand that, and he felt the anger radiating off her non-verbally like sparks.

He followed her inside the hospital reluctantly once he had locked the car securely in the visitors parking lot. Then he followed her to take the elevator up to the second floor to where Sam was, the anger still palpable from her. It was uneasy enough as it was, having to be inside a hospital building without Lizzy being angry at him. Hospitals were not something Red particularly liked; There was something disturbing about a building that held such sickness and death inside it.

The elevators opened on the second floor and Lizzy was off, walking hurriedly far ahead of him. She did not bother knocking at the door of the room where the nurse at the reception desk had informed her of where her father Sam would be in. She yanked open the doorknob, rushing in and deciding it best to give the two some proper privacy, Red shoved his hands inside his pockets as he sat down into one of the single chairs near the room in the corridor.

He grew quickly restless with just sitting there, bored with inactivity, helpless to do anything in order to make things right. He crossed one leg over the other, shaking his shoe around. Then he had to remove his hands out from in his coat pockets, sliding his palms and fingers back and forth over the heavy-duty cotton gabardine fabric on his trench coat.

After what seemed like over two hours of waiting, Lizzy finally emerged again slowly, pulling the door to Sam's room quietly closed before turning to face him again. Red felt a tight, squeezing anxious sensation in his chest when she looked at him.

"They say he'll probably have to stay overnight so that they can monitor him until he can see his doctor in the morning," she explained in a drained whisper of a voice, a tear trickling down her right cheek. "He had sharp shooting pains in his chest."

Red sat up spine straight in the chair, pretending to seem surprised though he already knew precisely what Sam had been going through. "I'm so sorry, Lizzy." It hardly seemed adequate, but he hoped it was enough to soothe her pain, at least slightly. "Is he going to be all right?"

She shrugged once, glancing down at the floor. "I... I'm not sure. I guess we won't really know until tomorrow with the doctors."

Red nodded sympathetically. "I'm sure he'll be fine. Knowing Sam, he has always been made of more sterner stuff than anyone else I've ever encountered. I'm sure he'll make it through, Lizzy." The particular way she was staring at him was unbearable, so Red shoved a hand inside his pocket, retrieving the car keys. "On that note, should we go get you home?"

She nodded silently and he stood from the chair.

They had only just reached halfway down the linoleum corridor when she spoke again uncertainly. "Can I... hug you?"

Red blanched as he looked at her, the corner of his upper lip twitching. She had successfully managed to shock him- an experience he did not feel all that often, though around her, he found the surprises to be continuous. First asking about his divorce to Carla, and now, asking for a hug. He hadn't expected her to ask such a thing.

"It's just that I... I really need for someone to hold me right now?"

For a second, he feared it would encourage her if he did embrace her. He had come to the dawning realization that she had developed some sort of teenage crush on him, a silly infatuation- and, if he had to be honest, he had feelings for her too, irresponsibly so. But then he decided there would be no foreseeable risk in it at all, and that he wouldn't mind a hug himself. She was only human, she was like everyone else when it came to these things. Grief had a strange way of effecting someone and obviously an outlet to her grief, was to seek out the nearest person available for physical contact and comfort.

"Of course, sweetheart," he agreed warmly after a moment of stunned silence, forcing what he hoped would be a comforting smile to her as he opened up his arms. Like a fish being reeled in by a rod, she came closer, slipping her arms around his waist, softening up against him like melted butter once he twined his arms around her.

It disgraced him how eager he felt to give in to her request, at how much he yearned to experience what it would feel like to hold Lizzy in his arms, to hold her against him. He wanted to inhale her in, to know what she smelled like up close, to feel her arms around him. Above all that, he wanted to hold her close and know that he was the one responsible for alleviating some of her pain.

But a part of him also had to admit that he was slightly scared that he would not be able to let her go afterwards, that he would lose total control, that he would have a slip in willpower and cross the line with her; something he could not easily afford to do.

"I can hold you for however long and for however as tight as you need, Lizzy. Whatever you need."

Whatever you need. Three words that had seemed harmless enough in intention. Yet Red had a peculiar feeling that later on that night, alone in the house together without Sam, that those three insignificant words would come back to bite him in the ass.

So here's another one. Pardon me if its very bad. I hope you are able to forgive me if so!