Compelled (a Hat Films Fanfic)

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        "Good day," I told the nurse at the front desk. "You know where I'm going," I laughed. I grabbed the handle of the door but to my surprise it didn't budge. I looked towards Ruth, who was the one on duty at the moment, giving her a confused look.

        "Oh! Ross," she startled, quickly shuffling around the desk to stand infront of me. I wondered what she wanted, as I was late and in a hurry to talk to Amanda as much as possible before visiting hours were over. She was short, even in heals, and had to look up when she addressed me. "Amanda..." she started, giving me a concerned look, "she's not in there."

        I felt my heart leap, but immediately crash back down into my stomach. I knew there was only two reasons why she wouldn't be in there, and the look of pity Ruth was giving me didn't give me any hope that she had woken up. I braced myself, feeling the blood from my face drain away and the sting of tears threatening to spill over my eyelids. I couldn't believe I hadn't been there for her; I only blamed myself for this.

        "She's not gone yet," Ruth quickly explained, seeing the fear and sadness in my eyes. A small flame of hope relit itself and I was eager for her to continue. "She has a ruptured spleen," she explained, "the size of the rupture isn't very large, but there is massive amounts of internal bleeding. She's in surgery now."

        I took a slow breath and sat down in the nearest waiting room chair, not trusting my legs to hold me up. I felt numb, but at the same time heavy, like a ton of bricks had just crashed down on me.  "Well..." I gulped, "what does this mean?" I asked her.

        Ruth looked apprehensively at me, debating something with herself. "Ross, I'm sorry," she said delicately, "they arn't sure she will make it."

        I was grateful for her the kindness she had shown me, but soon bitter hate replaced everything I was feeling. How could she possibly feel sorry, she sees this everyday. She didn't really care; she didn't even know her.

        I mentally kicked myself for being so stupid. I didn't know her either. I should be feeling as generically sympathetic as the nurses here. So why did I feel like someone had just punched me in the gut and then ripped my heart out, leaving a gaping, bleeding wound? And what made it worse was the fact that I may never know what she is like. I'll never see her eyes, her smile; I'll never hear her laugh or say my name. I won't know what kinda food she liked or music she listened too. She'll never lay next to me and tell me her dreams and aspirations.

        Ruth stood there silently as I stared at the floor until I heard something buzz. The nurse looked at the pager at her hips and, hesitating to look back at me, left soon after. I sat there, thinking about Amanda's lifeless body, cut open on an operating table. I wanted to be there for her, to tell her it was alright.

        To tell her goodbye.

        I shot up and quickly made my way to the bathroom, feeling tears running trails down my cheeks. I pushed through the door and into the quiet room, wiping my nose with a sleeve and walking over the the sink. I held my breath as I splashed cold water onto my face, but nothing stopped the quiet sobs that escaped me as I watched the water drip off my chin and hair in the mirror. Gripping the sink to support myself, I tried to calm myself down.

        At least it wasn't someone I knew, someone I cared about, like Smith or Trott. I didn't know her, and as much as I wanted to tell myself I had gotten attached to her, this would be so much worse if I had known her before the accident. She has a family that will mourn her, friends back in the states that will hear of this and feel a million times worse than I am now. I didn't know her. It's just some girl.