Game Theory × NH

047 | silver

× Mercury

I hated hospitals.

I know everyone says that, saying how they hate the smell or how depressing it is and that they knew someone, somewhere in the building, was in pain. Or maybe even because they always get bad news or know someone who died in a hospital.

Not me. I hated hospitals for their stupid architectural design.

All hospitals were the same: a freaking labyrinth. You can never just walk through the front doors and expect to find a desk with someone behind it to help you. Of course not. You have to go through hallways, look through doors, and stand in a waiting room while you smack your head against a wall in aggravation before you can find someone who might be able to point you in the right direction to find the reception desk.

Seven minutes later, I found the desk with a cheery blonde behind the counter. The name plaque on her desk read Penelope Webley. She was wearing purple. That's it. Everything she wore was purple; purple shirt, purple pants, purple shoes, and a little purple flower in her hair. The bright smile on her face made my irritated mood even more irritated.

"I'm looking for a patient, Morgan Cross," I said to the receptionist. "Is she accepting visitors?"

Penelope bit her lip and started tapping away on her keyboard, which, by the way, was decorated in purple stickers.

"Are you a friend?" she asked, looking up at me. When I nodded she looked back at the computer screen. "Visiting hours are over at eight. She's on the fourth floor. The lifts are down the hall to your left."

I got to the row of elevators and pushed the button and waited for the ding, only to be pushed to the side to let a group of people in scrubs and someone on a gurney go in instead of me. I glared as the elevator doors closed, leaving without me.

Finally getting into an elevator and going to the fourth floor, I walked down a long hallway that was eerily quiet. I looked behind me just to make sure I was on the right floor and not some haunted wing of the hospital they never use, and saw a sign that had a large number 4 on it. So I continued as I was endlessly reminded how I hated hospitals.

When I started hearing voices, I followed the sound to another hallway that led me to a large, circular room with a round desk in the center with people in colorful scrubs milling around, answering buzzers from patient, marking things off on clipboards, or sitting on a computer clicking away. Around the circumference of the circular room, there were double doors, no doubt where the patients stayed. Some of the doors were open and I could see people lying in bed watching TV, or up and walking around as they talked on the phone.

"Can I help you?"

I spun and saw a young guy in green scrubs looking at me; the ID clipped onto his pocket said his name was Hans. I was kind of taken aback, not because he startled me, but because he was kind of attractive with short black hair and the deepest brown eyes I had ever seen. His skin was darker and his accent wasn't as thick as the Londoners I knew.

"Uh..." I said stupidly. "Yeah, I'm looking for Morgan Cross."

The guy smiled and he had perfect white teeth behind his perfect desirable lips. "I'm actually on my way to her room. Follow me."

He led me around the circular room and to a set of ajar double doors at the far end. The guy knocked quietly before pushing them open and stepping inside. The inside of the room was like any other hospital room, white walls with a TV attached to the corner, a comfortable chair with a small table, a nightstand, a computer on a desk next to an IV drip and other necessities, and then the white, clean bed in the center of the room with a girl in a hospital gown, her back to us.