After one of the most embarrassing experiences of her life, Viola Hawkins is left feeling hopeless and demoralised. So when she's told that she's able to work as an undercover agent in a boarding school, she's given a new chance to change her life...
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There's something about them. Hospitals. Something that makes you feel so scared inside. Although they're clean and full of equipment, they also hit you with the numbness of being incredibly alone. When you're lying there, in your bed, staring at nothing but the harsh, white glare of the lighting, it sure as hell makes you feel crap. I mean, surely somebody could add a little bit of colour? Instead of the dull, blue and white shit that is there night and day.
I guess I'd like something else to distract me. Distract me from the fact that I'm lying here, alive, while Viola is potentially not.
She's been dripped up for days. Hooked onto this machine that is barely keeping her life. I haven't even fucking seen her. These so called 'doctors' don't think that it's beneficial for either of us, and yet here I am losing my mind without her presence. Sure, people have visited me, talked to me, made sure I'm okay, but without Viola, I'm just the guy that possibly let her die.
She must be so scared. So confused.
If she even feels anything at all, that is.
And what fucking kills the most is that she's right there, in this building, only a few rooms away. But I'm stuck in this god-awful bed without any ability to even move.
"William?" A voice sounds, waking me out of my daze. It's one of the doctors, probably the only one that vaguely understands what I'm going through. She gives me a sad smile. "How are you feeling today?"
I shrug. "Will you let me see her?"
"I'm afraid not. I can't-"
"Then I'm feeling like shit, thank you very much."
The doctor sighs, watching me with her beady eyes like a freaking hawk. Her gaze seems to make everything worse - it's like she can see right through me. It seems like doctors are able to do that. They're healers, psychologists and x-ray operators all at the same time. Obviously, they're not, but it sure as hell feels like that.
"Do you love her?" She asks, sitting on the edge of my bed, on the cold plastic bars that I happen to have stubbed my toes on numerous times.
I ignore her. Of course I love Viola. Why does she need to know that?
