Hope Jackson rushed down the stark white hallway, ignoring the harsh chemical smell of whatever cleaning agent the hospital used. Fear and anxiety were etched into her features as she strode up to the desk and addressed the first nurse she saw.
“Excuse me, I'm looking for the room of Marla Jones? She's my mother, and my dad forgot to mention the room number...”
Nurse's offered her a reassuring smile as she quickly looked the name up on the computer. A hint of concern swept across her face as she pulled the information up. “Ok, I have that room number here, but while your mother is stable right now, I should warn you... Your mother is in the burn unit. There are some protocols you'll be asked to follow while visiting. I can walk you through it, if you want?”
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Hope looked down at the yellow hospital gown she had to wear with a frown. While yellow was normally one of her favorite colors to wear, as it complimented her chocolate brown skin wonderfully, today... today she hated it. It looked sickly or diseased to her. Though, she admitted to herself, that was more due to the circumstances than the color itself.
With a deep breath to prepare herself, she pushed into the room to find her father waiting for her. Even as he stood to meet her, he eyes were drawn to the hospital bed. Or, more accurately, to the person that lay motionless on it. Dozens of wires and tubes connected her mother to a bunch of machines she couldn't identify.
And if not for the presence of her father, she likely would have struggled to identify the body under so many layers of bandages as her mother.
Hope stared in horror, her mind unable to process what she was seeing. Her mother was always an extremely active person, happy to volunteer in the community or just help out at the church. She would welcome everyone with a bright smile, filled with happiness to help and joy for life.
Now that same woman lay there, horribly burned and desperately clinging to life.
“What happened?”
Hope didn't even realize she spoke aloud until her father lay a hand on her shoulder, gently guiding her to a chair. As her father gingerly lowered himself into the seat beside her, she turned a shocked gaze on the bandages he bore.
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“You're hurt too!? Are you ok? Oh, God... I'm sorry I didn't-”
John cut off his daughter with a small wave, smiling gently at her before speaking in his usual bass rumble. “I'm ok, mostly just some scrapes and bruises. I'm just glad you decided to come home early for Christmas this year.”
“But... How? What happened? Is mama going to be ok?”
John held her hand to calm her. While the business world may see his daughter as a shark, he only ever saw the sweet little girl they had raised. Even as a grown woman worth a fortune, it was always 'mama' and not 'mother'. “Your mama is stronger than this; Hell, she's stronger than me when she wants to be. She'll get through this and come out the other side smiling, just wait and see.”
Hope's brow furrowed in concern. Her father wasn't answering her question about what happened. He only deflected like that when he was trying to protect her... But he also never lied to her, so she knew he meant what he said about her mother.
“What happened dad? Tell me how you and mama got hurt, please? I need to know.”
John hung his head with a sigh as tears slowly slid down his face. “I know I shouldn't try to protect you from stuff like this any more. You're a grown woman, but it's hard not to. You'll always be my baby girl.”
He wiped away the tears before turning to face his daughter fully, his usually smiling face turned serious, almost angry. “We were at the church... I was helping set up the Nativity Scene out front, while your mother was inside... Well, I'm not quite sure what she was helping with, but that doesn't matter. A whole bunch of us were there, probably thirty or forty...”
He trailed off for a moment, just staring at his wife laying there hurt. Shaking his head sadly, he pushed on in a rush, a trace of pain and disgust lacing his words. “Our church had gotten some threats recently from some hate group. Apparently they have a problem with a 'Black Church' being in 'their' community.”
“The police said it was a fire bomb, but all I can remember is the explosion, the screaming and crying... I don't remember pulling your mama out of it, but they said that's how I got hurt...”
His voice faded into a hoarse whisper by the end, and Hope held him tight when the sobbing started. Her family, and their church, had never done anything to hurt anyone. They followed God's word, and believed in helping others. Why would anyone do something so terrible to them?
Tears welled in her own eyes... even as anger grew in her heart.
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John fell into a fitful sleep in the chair, having refused to leave his wife's side even when the nurse suggested he needed to rest.
Left alone with her fears, anxiety and anger, Hope turned to the only solace she could find: Prayer. Kneeling beside her mother's hospital bed, she bowed her head and clasped her hands even as her tears rained down.
“God, I know I don't speak with you often enough. I get too caught up in life and my business, and sometimes I forget what is really important... But I'll never forget my parents. How important they are to me, how much I love them... How much they have done for me. Please, God, help my mama. Help her to heal and get past this hurt and the hate that caused it.”
“And please forgive me God, because my heart burns for more than just her survival.”
“I want justice for those that were hurt and died.”
“And, God forgive me, but I want the men that did this to pay. I want vengeance for mama.”
Her phone chiming interrupted the dark and painful thoughts, and Hope almost ignored it. A strange urging filled her chest, causing her to pull it out of her pocket to check.
Submit Bounty: Justice for the lost... and Vengeance for mama? (Yes/No)