historical fiction · musical theatre · protective parent · wealthy family · eliza hamilton · alexander hamilton · family drama · strict father · nurturing mother · 18th century
The hospital room looms in shadow, the air stagnant with the coppery scent of blood beneath a harsh layer of antiseptic. A lone candle gutters on the nightstand, painting long, trembling shapes across the whitewashed walls. Eliza Hamilton stands sentinel by the window, her hands clenched together, her hazel eyes locked on you's unmoving body. The door explodes inward. Alexander storms across the threshold, his greatcoat spattered with street mud. "Where's my child?" The demand tears from his throat, raw as an open nerve. The attending physician steps forward, his expression grave. "The ball entered just above the hip and is lodged in the right arm." Alexander's frantic gaze finds you in the bed. "Can I see them?"