H A U N T E D

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t e n

"So it seems like your granddaughter experienced a severe panic attack, Flynn."

A soothing voice tries to reassure my grandfather. It sounds like that old movie, what was it again? Oh yeah, The Sound of Music. With the father who sang to his children when they asked him. That pretty song about a flower.

Someone lifts up my left arm, advising me to keep still as they will be removing the IV from my arm. It's the same voice as the father who sang Edelweis to his children.

"She's not even noticing, Doc", my grandfather sounds troubled and concerned. I can't help it, even thinking about a 1960's movie, my mind still goes back to the boy in the cafeteria. What followed him, still haunts me. My eyes shoot up with tears once again.

"Ophelia?", the doctor inquires with a new tone of concern in his voice. I look up at him, his image swimming behind unshed tears of mine. Slowly, I start to fully realize where I currently am. I'm in a hospital room. I don't remember how I got here.

"Are you okay?"

Flynn comes closer, his hand on my shoulder and his thumb rubbing circles on my shoulder blade. I promptly blink away the tears, using the back of my hand to wipe them away.

"I am sorry", I apologize and give a watery giggle that is not as cheerful as I wish it would sound.

"What happened out there, kid?"

I turn to my grandpa, looking into his deep blue eyes that have never seemed so warm as in this moment. The icebergs have momentarily melted. I want to tell him the truth, of what I saw, but the only people who would believe my secret, is dead. So instead, I lie.

"Something reminded me of my mama", I feel a fist slam into my stomach as the lie burns my tongue. I never would have thought I would use my mother's death as an excuse.

"What was it?", the doctor interrogates me, in a way that catches me off guard. He seems a bit panicked, but calms down once he notices my fearful expression. It is only then that I can truly make out his features.

This man looks like he was carved by Michelangelo himself. He cannot be older than 25, but his dark brown eyes hold the wisdom of an old man. His blonde hair is carefully styled into those types of hair styles you would expect from the 1920's. He looks tired, with discomforting blue shadows under his eyes. What else can be expected from a doctor, really?

"Someone mentioned something about-", I take a deep breath before allowing the lie to saturate in my mouth.

"-about losing someone in the way that I lost my mother."

Flynn's breathing becomes shallow and his hand falls from my shoulder. The doctor's head hangs in dismay and I bite my lip in regret. My eyes travel to the doctor's name tag, and can't help but mentally face-palm myself.

"You're Doctor Cullen! Nicole mentioned you earlier."

Doctor Cullen looks back up, a shy grin taking hold of his thin lips.

"All good things, I'd hope", he jokes. I snort in amusement and nod my head instantly.

"The school is in love with your family, Doctor."

Flynn chuckles at my comment and sighs in relief, before pulling me in for a hug. I tense up at the sudden development of the conversation, but eagerly return the hug back.

"When I got that call saying I had to come to the hospital-", he murmurs in my ear. I pull him closer and bury my face in his shoulder. He smells like burnt wood and lavender essence.