I stared at the doctor in disbelief. What did he say? Surely just some simple cramps couldn't be that bad.
"Sorry?", asked my dad in alarm.
"Frank's pains were merely bad cramps, which would have passed soon enough he had moved around a bit", sighed the doctor.
"No cramp is that bad!", argued Gerard, now suddenly to attention and standing. I couldn't help but notice some dark, wet patches on the sleeves of his t-shirt...
"I would suggest that you all go home and have good night's rest", said the doctor in a bored voice. Then, he turned away to face his computer screen.
"But-", started my father.
"Goodbye Mr Iero.", the doctor sighed.
We picked ourselves up and left without a bye or thanks. None of us uttered a single word until we were in the car.
"Frank. You… Are One… FUCKING Idiot!", claimed my father, before driving out the hospital car park.
I didn't bother arguing. I crossed my arms and slouched in my seat. I looked across at Gerard, who was quietly day-dreaming out the window, his snowy hands gripping tightly to the end of his sleeves. He was biting his rosy lip furiously. I looked back at my dad. His grip was on the steering wheel was so strong that his veins were pumping on the surface, and his 2 thin eyebrows were heading towards each other becoming one flaming mono-brow. I could see him grinding his cigarette-yellowed teeth.
I didn't bother speaking to either of them. I knew there was no point. They were both incredible pissed with me...