Fear (A Scarecrow Fanfic)

Chapter Twelve

"Keith!" I had called out, trying to crawl underneath to check on him.

Someone grabbed me, pulling me away from the vehicle, trying to tell me something. I didn't remember what they said, not even sure if I had heard them over my screams of protest.

What I remembered next was waking up in a hospital, feeling sore. At first, I couldn't remember why I was there, confused. That feeling was replaced with fear, pain, and anger the moment the memories returned. Even now, I could feel those emotions well up inside me, not as strong as they were in that one moment, but still just as painful.

It was the fear that spurred me into action. I screamed at the top of my lungs, hoping someone would hear me, "Where's Keith? Where is my brother? I need to know if he's okay! Please!"

A nurse rushed in, immediately trying to calm me. She didn't answer any of my questions or even seem to hear what I was saying. Frustrated, I tried to get up, being pushed back down by the nurse. Someone else came into the room and messed with something off to my side, but my only concern was finding my brother.

I wasn't even aware of my strength being sapped away until the nurse let me go and I closed my eyes.

"Has Mrs. Brown arrived yet?" I heard the nurse ask.

"Not yet," a male voice responded, his voice sounding far away.

The woman sighed, and said something, but I couldn't hear what it was. I heard the man say something back. Everything sounded like gibberish, except one word that I somehow recognized, one word that still haunted me today.

"...dead...."

*

"Dad?" I got up from the couch when I heard a loud thud coming from upstairs.

I had been allowed to come home from the hospital, free from school, to recover from the minor injury I had from the wreck. My father had agreed to stay home with me since he was a doctor anyways.

I heard a thud again and began to slowly climb the stairs. My mind had raced with different scenarios of what was causing the thuds I heard, and I was afraid of intruders or that father had hurt himself. He had been distant in the few days since Keith died, locking himself in his study. It became worse as Keith's birthday approached.

I hadn't seen him since mother left earlier that day. Neither of us minded though, he had been the one to operate on Keith when he was brought in to the hospital. I remembered the countless times after Keith's death where I felt sad, but I convinced myself I could never feel as sad as our father must've felt for failing to save his son.

When I got to the top of the stairs, I followed the sound to the study. Holding my breath, I slowly opened the door, silently praying nothing jumped out at me. Through the crack, I glanced around the room. If it weren't for the thump I head at that moment, I probably would've left the room and went back downstairs.

Instead, I opened up the door to step in, horrified when I saw my father dangling from a rope that was tied to one of the rafters in the ceiling. He was still struggling, his face blue, foam coming from his mouth, his eyes bulging.

"Dad!" I dashed to the phone, not knowing how else I could help.

It rang twice before an operator answered, "9-1-1, what's your emergency?"

"M-my dad n-needs help. He's hanging f-fr-from th-th-the ceiling," it had become difficult to speak, and I found myself stuttering.

"Okay, what is the address?" The operator asked.

I gripped the phone tightly in my hand and spoke slowly so I wouldn't mess up, "3617 Park Street in Blüdhaven."

"Okay, stay on the phone with me," she said, "help is on the way. What is your name?"

"S-Sarah Brown," I looked back at my father, "my dad's not moving anymore. When will the ambulance get here?"

"They'll be there in a few minutes. How old are you, Sarah?" She asked.

"Nine," I answered.

The woman continued, "Okay, is there anything nearby that you could slide under your dad so he's not hanging?  Like a chair maybe?"

"Yes," I looked back at the office chair lying on it's side.

"Okay, put it under him, but try not to make him swing. Can you do that?" She asked.

I was distracted by the sound of sirens, "I think the ambulance is almost here."

"Okay, but you should try relieving the force being exerted on your dad's neck."

I hesitated, looking back at the chair, "O-okay, I'll try."

"When you do, try getting the rope off of his neck," the woman added.

I put the phone down on the desk, and went over to the chair, putting it the right-side up.  Nervous, I began to push it towards my father, the carpeting slowing me down.  When I got close, I stopped, using the lever at the bottom to lower the chair's height.  I rolled it under him before adjusting the height again.

When his feet were flat against the chair, it suddenly flew forward as his knees buckled and he fell backwards.  I tried catching him, feeling pain in my chest and hearing a crack when he landed on me.  Pinned, I had to wiggle and squirm my way out from under him, ignoring the pain it caused.  Outside, sirens wailed.

I grabbed the phone again, "Okay, I did it.  I'm going to unlock the door for the ambulance."

Without waiting for a response, I put down the phone again and darted for the stairs, headed for the front door the moment made it down them.  I unlocked the door, opening it and stepping outside.  Two people were already jogging across the yard.

"My dad is upstairs; he needs help!"  I told them, already heading back to the stairs to show them the way to the study.

They both followed, but I heard one of them ask, "Where is your mom?"

"She's at work right now," I pointed to the study, "he's in there."

One of the people went into the room, but the other stayed with me, frowning.  "Are you hurt?"

He already squatted down to examine me before I could answer, "I was in an accident a few days ago, but the doctor let me go home because all I need is rest."

I watched him lift my shirt a little, exposing the bandages wrapped around my side.  They were a deep shade of red and I was suddenly aware of the pain.  I bit my cheek and looked towards the study, waiting for dad to walk out.