White Hearts Hospital
W atching Lewis fight like a mighty warrior changed something in Fabiola’s physiology. She suddenly began to feel her wounds heal. That talent from the days in Wonderland seemed to return. But even so, she wasn’t sure how long it’d take.
“Lewis!” she shouted. “Are you all right?”
“He is!” the rabbit shouted back from the stairs below. “There are just too many Reds to kill.”
“You can’t do it all alone.”
“We’ll manage,” the rabbit said. “Just get well soon.”
“I’m starting to heal, but it will take some time.”
“We’ll kill those Reds and come pick you up,” that was Lewis now. “You should see how much of a None Fu warrior I’ve become.”
Fabiola hadn’t heard Lewis as excited as this for many years. That tinge of childishness in a grown man’s body had disappeared for so long. He sounded like a young reader of a fantasy novel by Tolkien, enjoying it so much, thinking he was really fighting in the books.
She took a deep breath, watching her body heal. But as she did, she turned on the TV. News covered the events in the Vatican and the asylum. God, how she’d regret being late and stubborn and hesitant if something happened to the Inklings.
Who was she fooling? She was too late. The police had announced they had control of the asylum, and that everyone inside had been killed.
Fabiola suddenly felt sick. She felt evil. A coward. She should have taken drastic measures much earlier. She didn’t have to wait for Lewis to come and convince her to heal or change her mind.
She was too late.
And if she was to blame anyone, it would be the Pillar, the man who’d hurt her so much she hated herself and the life all around her.