Compelled (a Hat Films Fanfic)

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        It was four days until I went to go visit her again. I kept making up excuses, trying to convince myself as much as my two co-workers that editing was suddenly very important to me, or that I couldn't afford the petrol today. They were lame lies, and Smith and Trott saw through them almost immediately, but they never pushed the subject.

        I couldn't just ignore her, but I was selfishly shielding my already tattered emotions from anymore disappointment and heartbreak. I knew I held up too high of hopes, having spent weeks building her up as some kind of perfect match, and already she has proven odd and unappealing.

        It wasn't until I got a call from Ruth telling me that Amanda had been asking for me that I returned to the hospital, bracing myself for the worst. I walked slowly to her room, trying to find a way of breaking myself off completely and cleanly from this girl.

        She was standing by the window today, looking a lot more clean and professional today, even having changed out of the hospital gown into forest green trousers and a black, long sleeved top. She still wore her familiar passive look as she watched the rain drip down the cold glass, and when she turned to see who had entered her room I flinched at how sad she seemed.

        She seemed to perk up as she saw me, and gave me the tiniest smile. "Hey Ross Hornby," she greeted, turning to face me fully. I took a step into the room and let the door close behind me. "Where have you been?" she asked, the emotion in her voice indiscernible; it didn't sound bitter, but it was more listless than happy.

        I suddenly felt very guilty, not having a very good excuse. "Uh, work..." I said awkwardly, "I've...busy..."

        She didn't seem to buy it, but remained silent and pensive. I took the time to study her; the clothes that probably fit two months ago now hung off of her bony figure. The only sign of the accident was crossed over her face in faint, white scars, presumably from glass or asphalt. Her hair was pulled back, but hung in shiny ringlets behind her head, suggesting that she had to have showered at some point recently. I was suddenly curious, wondering if she had been back to her dorm to get all these things. "You changed," I noted, hoping she would provide the information I wanted without asking directly.

        "I called my RA to bring me some stuff," she muttered, looking over at the chair which held a few school books, a laptop, and a few folded outfits. She walked over and sat down on the opposite edge of the bed, looking somewhat uncomfortable.

        It seemed as if she wanted to say something, so I quickly asked, "Is something wrong?"

        She scratched at the back of her head. "Uh yeah..." she trailed, "I kind of need a favor from you..."

        I went on the defense, not seeing where she was going with this. "What is it?" I questioned, looking her up and down.

        She didn't look at me as she asked, "Could you pick up a few things for me from the store?"

        That was it? "Sure," I told her, not seeing why she made such a big deal about it, "What do you need?"

        She walked back over to the chair that held her possessions and pulled out a wallet and a notebook. Scribbling some things down onto the lined paper and ripping out the page, she handed me the scrap and a wad of money. I looked at the list, seeing a lot of simple, inexpensive things. Frosted mini-wheats was at the bottom, circled and starred. I laughed, "I see you like mini-wheats," I noted, trying to make a joke about it.

        "I need...like three boxes..." she said, completely serious.

        I was suddenly very confused and put off again. "What do you mean?" I asked incredulously.

        She seemed somewhat embarrassed and looked down at her feet as she said, "They only give me meat here, which I can't eat...and I really need iron..."

        "Why?" I asked.

        "I have anemia," she said simply.

        "Oh," I said, seeing the problem. My cousin had anemia, so I was used to hearing about it from mine and her parents. It really wasn't an issue, but I remember whenever she got a cut or scrap it would take a lot for the bleeding to stop and she would fatigue easily.

        Suddenly a thought hit me. "Wait, what?!" I balked, and she seemed to jump at the sudden force in my voice. I tried to be quieter as I asked, "Was it cause by the accident?"

        "N..No..." she stammered, giving me a fearful look, "I've had it since I was a kid..."

        She seemed to see where I was going with the thought, yet I still pried. "How did you survive a ruptured spleen?" I asked, mystified.

        She turned from me, looking like she was about to cry. She walked back over to the window and didn't say anything. I felt bad for having upset her, and in hindsight I probably shouldn't have point out that she shouldn't be alive...

        "I...I'm sorry," I muttered, feeling idiotic. I cross the room and reached for her, but was interrupted as the door suddenly swung open.

        Willow was standing there holding an IV bag, taking in the scene. She addressed the girl first, "Amanda, I said you could wear your own clothes only if you kept the IV in..." she said delicately.

        Amanda looked genuinely guilty and muttered an apology. Willow patted the bed and Amanda reluctantly shuffled back to her, allowing the nurse to replace the needle in her arm. She did a few tests that didn't take very long, and then beckoned me out into the hallway.

        "Where have you been Ross?" she asked, and I felt guilty for the umpteenth time today.

        "I've been busy..." I said, feeling as if I was back in primary school be lectured by a teacher.

        "You wern't busy every day for the past nine weeks..." she said skeptically, raising an eye brow up at me.

        "She is not my responsibility," I emphasized, suddenly feeling very frustrated.

        The nurse was taken aback by the anger in my voice. "I just assumed..." she trailed.

        I cut her off. "I'm sorry. I just need to figure things out..." I muttered vaguely.

        "Well that's none of my business... I just wanted to let you know that she's doing much better and should be released in the next two weeks," she explained.

        I sighed, seeing the end of all this very close. I was stupid to think I could ever love someone I hadn't ever talked to, and I blame passion of the moment and raging emotions for causing all of this in the first place.

        "She can't drive..." Willow continued, "So we will have to arrange a pick up as soon as I get the referral from the doctor."

        "That's fine," I told her.

        She smiled and patted my cheek. "Thank you love, we'll talk later." She quickly ducked into Amanda's room to collect the empty IV bags and left us alone again.

        I stood there awkwardly, running a hand over the back of my head. "Uh, I'm going to leave..." I started, not knowing what else to do.

        She sat up straighter, giving me a concerned look from her cross-legged position on the white sheets. "Do you have to go?" she asked quietly, "Please stay..."

        I guess I didn't have to leave so soon, and she seemed pretty lonely. "I...I can stay for a bit," I told her, pulling up an empty chair.

        She gave me a half smile, and for the first time ever she seemed happy. We looked at each other for a while, her content and me wary. Her hazel eyes seemed to brighten as she watched me, and suddenly she asked, "So how was work?"

        The small chat seemed foreign and outlandish to me, who had only heard strange, derailed thoughts or serious topics come from the girl. "Uh, hectic..." I told her, "We're releasing two video's a day and I'm editing three different series so I have a lot of work to do." She probably already knew this, having supposed to have worked there.

        "Do you like editing?" she asked, keeping up the same strange happiness. It was as if the emotion itself was quiet and reserved, thought I don't know how that was possible. However, I was surprisingly satisfied with seeing her like that.

        "Yeah actually, I do," I admitted.

        We continued chatting like old friends for a while. I was astonished how the time flew by, and how intelligent she was in regards to editing and technology. She was able to keep up with me as I described the live stream and server set ups we had at the office. She even excitedly told me about the editing software she used to edit Nick's videos, and commiserated with me about editing together three or four separate streams when doing collabs.

        The subject switched to more personal things after that, and we talked about our university experiences. I told her about Portsmith and starting the Youtube with Trott and Ashman and she talked about Ringlings back in the states where she met Nick through a film history class. I learned a lot about her; she was 24 and originally grew up in New York, and held a BFA in animation and a minor in computer sciences.

        I was nearly in tears as she explained how her and a few other vegan friends had stolen 3 cows and hid them in the school gym. The funniest part was when she was explaining how she got electrocuted by the fence when trying to cut the wires between pulses. "We were going to get arrested," she laughed, finishing her story, "but it ended up that the farmer was abusing his animals, so we got off with a 'stern warning'." She lowered her voice and added air quotes for emphasis.

        "But what happened to the cows?" I asked, still laughing.

        "The rest were sold to other farms by the estate, but the three cows we saved were taken in by Farm Sanctuary," she smiled, proud of her deed.

        "You should be a super hero," I joked, "defender of cows everywhere."

        She bunched her fists on her hips and puffed out her chest. "I will be..." she declared, pausing for effect, "Cow Man..." She let out a breath and started laughing again, returning to her normal sitting position.

        "Wouldn't it be Cow Woma..." I said, getting cut off by a woman on the loudspeaker. She announced that visiting hours would be over in five minutes, and I was stunned that it was 8 o'clock. Had it really been two and a half hours since we started talking?

        She let her shoulders drop and gave me a regretful look. "I guess this is goodbye," she shrugged, watching me stand up.

        I pulled on my superdry jumper and smiled at her. "I'll see you tomorrow," I told her, reluctantly leaving her room and headed home.

        I gave a content sigh as I drove, running through the coversations again in my mind. The thought of doing the same thing tomorrow pushed out any previous greif or frustration I had felt this morning. I couldn't believe I had waited four days to visit her again, and I was feeling the same excitment I felt a few weeks ago with the thought of seeing her, only it was magnified a thousand times now that she was awake.

        She may be a bit quirky and different, but it only made me more attracted to her. I kicked myself for wanting to be rid of her all this time since she awoke; I was only trying to protect myself from getting hurt by staying away from her. I was still being selfish now, however now I was using her for comfort and happiness, and I could only hope she felt the same way about me.

        I had trouble sleeping that night, but only because my brain was filled with thoughts and images of her.