THE WORRYING CONDITION

Last on the list, not when this black witch and its miniature are the first things that greet my eyes when I saunter inside. They are here, peacefully perched on the comfortable leather couches, browsing their phones like nothing out of the ordinary is going on. Are they for real?


These fucking lazy bones! Black witches! Useless arses! Shouldn't they be taking care of my father right now? Their level of uselessness is just terrific! The witches aside. Nanny I don't spare them more glances, and neither do I waste my energy greeting them. I have declared my presence, and their gazes after catching sight of me just exhibit how dumbfounded they damn are to see me. Well, the queen of the castle is back, and while I look after my father, I should also work on the unsettled scores! Mental note: Ellie Marrie Riccaford is back. I hope they are ready, but more than that, I hope they steer clear of my business.

I take up the long, irritating countless sets of stairs up to the sixth floor, and nanny Aisha leads me to a room that I formally knew as my study in the castle. I had beautiful recollections here. This is the room I used to lock myself up in when I was young. I would read books, especially that particular huge booklet about business management that my father got for me. I hated it at first, but when I embraced what it symbolized by being a Riccaford, I swallowed my resentment and made it my favorite book.

However, the intimacy I have with this room all withers the moment I tap one foot inside. I get awestruck, but I manage to tow my second foot inside, albeit. The adrenaline surge paralyzes my spine as I dart my orbs around the countless pairs of eyes standing before us.


A squadron of doctors!

My study room isn't a study room anymore, but a conference room for doctors. I tense! I try to even blink, but I don't have the energy to do a thing—not even breathing—and the worst thing is that their visions are as clear as crystal. None of their faces seem even a little bit blurry. All of these doctors are here to attend to my father? Like, his ailment is this serious?


"Greetings, doctors! Ah, she is Ellie, Miss Riccaford. My dear, these are the doctors handling your father."

Of course, I can guess that. I am not a dumbass for crying out loud. What I don't understand, and I am dying to know, is why all of them? Why does my father need all this whole set of doctors who are filling up the entire room like a swam of bees?

"Hello, Miss Riccaford!" A gentleman offers his hand, which I shake. He adds. "I am Dr. Lemuel, the head doctor of the team assigned to take care of your father. You are welcome!" He drops his hand from mine while I clear the pile from my throat and struggle to speak.

"Thank you, doctor. Please, what is my father's condition? Have you found the diagnosis? The treatment? The cure?" I ask non-stop, and I don't fail to catch their gazes as they look at each other.

Their expression exudes dread, and I sure am sure that this is definitely not paranoia. My father is seriously ill.

"Calm down, miss," Doctor Lemuel says, turning to his colleagues. "Please leave us alone for a brief moment."

They all nod their heads and head out, one after the other. I lost count of them at number 7. I don't know how many there are. Nanny Aisha follows too after shooting me a comforting glance, and I am left with their head doctor.

"Talk to me, doc. What is wrong with my father?" I implore with a racing heart.

"It is the heart condition, miss. I am sorry to say this, but your father's condition has gotten serious," one of the doctors explains solemnly, his voice heavy with the weight of the news he bears. "His heart is so weak, and a transplant is what we are considering at the moment. But we haven't concluded yet."

The words hit me like a sledgehammer, leaving me reeling with shock and disbelief. A transplant? The thought is almost too much to bear; the implications of such a procedure are swirling in my mind like a whirlwind of uncertainty and fear.

My father is facing a battle so formidable that even the mere thought of it sends a shiver down my spine. The fragility of life suddenly looms large before me, a stark reminder of how quickly everything we hold dear can be snatched away.

A tear drops.

I struggle to find words, my mind racing as I grapple with the enormity of the situation. I am trying to breathe, but all in vain. I feel like all the air has been sucked out of the system. I am weak to the bones, and my legs are failing to support me.

"A what?" I manage to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper as I struggle to comprehend the enormity of what lies ahead. The room falls silent, the weight of the revelation hanging heavy in the air as I wait with bated breath for the doctor's response, praying for some glimmer of hope in the darkness that threatens to consume me.

I plunge to the seat next to me, too weak to bear standing even a second longer and too thunderstruck to mumble another word.

A heart disease that has gotten this serious in such a short time? I thought these ailments would drag on for quite a while. How possible is this?

"But, doc, Papa was just fine a few months ago. How come the condition just struck him this soon? No! That's... That is impossible!" I utter the now blurry image of the doctor as tears start forming in my eyes.

I suck them back and try to wear the most confident expression that I can afford.