Converting the Bad Boy ✔

Chapter 21

Finally! I swear this chapter was so hard to write, I had to rewrite it like five times. But here it is, after a whole lot of blood, sweat and tears *collapses from exhaustion*

^Pic of Samantha

_______________

"Breakfast!" I wheeled the trolley through the door, entering a brightly lit room from the morning sunshine. I was working in a different part of the hospital to last time, a part that involved adults with diabetic complications. So far I had served breakfast to people with amputations, people wired up to IV drips, and a few who didn't look like they had anything wrong with them, but they had the misfortune of being in hospital anyway. Some people's pain was internal, and there were no scars or blood as evidence.

"I hope they got the order right this time," the man grumbled as I set his breakfast on the table beside him. He inspected the toast and eggs, letting out a somewhat satisfied grunt, so I left the room, not before saying, "Enjoy your food," something I had habitually began to say to the patients.

Now I only had three rooms left for the morning, and when I was done, I went to the reception, drumming my fingers on the bench as I waited for the secretary to finish her call.

"So you're done with serving breakfast?" I nodded. "Okay, I'm going to have to transfer you to a different part of the hospital. It's the – which one was it, Susan?"

The brunette receptionist called to the nurse who was sorting some files in the corner of the desk, and the nurse looked up, frowning in thought. "I think it's the surgery wing. With all the patients waiting for surgery," she replied, gathering the papers in her hand and stapling it. "There's a lot of laundry that needs to be done."

The receptionist turned back to me with a smile. "Looks like you'll be doing some laundry now. Should I accompany you or will you be right to find your way?"

"I think I can manage," I said hesitantly, and the receptionist seemed to sense my reluctance because she called Susan again, who was about to take a break, to show me the way to the surgery wing.

"Alright, let's go," Susan was shorter than me with a plump figure, and she hobbled in front of me as she led the way. During the elevator ride she complimented me on my hijab. It was a light blue material with winding white and black patterns and purple flowers. It was definitely my favourite.

Susan led me down a long hallway and then into a room I would've missed if I hadn't been directly shown to it, and in this room was a pile of dirty white sheets and a row of dryers and washing machines.

"Abigail will be coming soon to help you, so don't be overwhelmed. Once you're done loading the sheets you can take a break," Susan told me just as a young woman with black hair and freckles walked in wearing the hospital scrubs. "Ah, here she is, right on time, as always. Abigail, meet Mariam, our lovely volunteer."

Abigail smiled at me, shaking my hand. My eyes widened at how cold her hand was.

"Yeah, sorry about my hands. They're always cold," Abigail laughed at my expression. Susan bid us goodbye and good luck, leaving us in a room that smelt of laundry powder and mildew.

Abigail clapped her hands, scanning the room. "Let's get started, shall we?"

Laundry was disgusting. And that was putting it lightly. Abigail and I made conversation as we worked, managing to get all the sheets in the washing machines with the correct amount of detergent. She was twenty-three, and had been working here for a year now after graduating with a nursing degree. She too had done volunteering at a different hospital when she was in high school, and she told me about how it was tiring, but rewarding. I agreed.