Samuel Scott, a man who despises Christmas, after a terrible fall is paired in a hospital room with Amy Bell, a woman longing for carols and festive decorations.
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Colder Weather by Mother's Daughter, Beck Pete
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Thirteen hours.
They checked on me once at the five-hour mark, ignoring my questions regarding Amy's state. Personal information, they announced. I wasn't allowed to receive it. I wasn't a relative or had any relation with her whatsoever. I wasn't even her friend. Friends took years to bond. But we had shared a hospital room together! I was the one that hailed for help! That had to count for something.
With my body bandage-free, muscles sore and achy, I waited for the doctor to continue his morning run. He filled the chart, gave instructions to the nurses, and bid me goodbye. I reached for my nightstand, the storage compartment empty if not for a bible and the girl's phone. I didn't consider it stealing and hiding foreign property... it wasmore like safekeeping.
In the mayhem, I was driven off immediately; the cell clutched in my hand. Amy had fainted right after I called Miles, her skull falling with a thump on the table before I could stop it. I had forgotten all about it, and when I ultimately did see it, it was after I had asked about her and hit a wall.
I checked the window that oversaw the hall, not really understanding my secrecy as I could very well be making a personal call with my personal phone, and squeezed the power button. It had no password, quicker in case of emergencies, and in the calling history, I met Miles' number.
He hadn't shown up before they had assigned Amy here, and he was absent after her incident. Plus, he was close to her, helping her, granting her favors. I would go as far as to suggest that he held the girl dear.
It rang and rang, but there was no response. It fuelled my disappointment and a wave of growing anger. I removed it from my ear, drumming my finger on the volume buttons as I tried to think of another plan.
No news if I am not a relative.
No knowledge of where she is in the four-story building.
No Miles to help.
It was an impossible task that aggravated me more than the carols faintly ringing from the decorations ahead of me. The lights must have been unmuted, the tune of 'The Christmas Song' playing in high pitch. I glanced at the screen. Part of me craved to snoop, uncover the mystery that was her.
My digits itched.
No, I had to respect her privacy; if she chose to share anything, she would do it eventually. A stab pierced through my heart, a feeling of dread crawling closer by intuition alone.
I glared at the blizzard quieting, lost in the scenery when the entrance flew open, causing me to jump. The sudden fright tensed muscles that had been unused for days, pain shotting from my leg to the base of my skull.
