Witness

9. Chelsea

I am doing a very stupid thing. 

My hands are shaking so I know it's stupid. 

I have twenty minutes before my lunch break is over but there's no way that I'll make it back to the office in time. I've already texted Madelaine and asked her to cover for me; tell everyone that I'm stuck in a meeting or something. 

Instead of walking back towards my desk, I'm on a bus going into central London. My foot is tapping against the floor and I can't help but glance over my shoulder at the patrons every few minutes. 

Vik can't have followed me. He'd assume I'm still at work since I left through the fire exit at the back and took public transport instead of my own car. He's probably still sat in the usual Range Rover down the street from the office, Damien's ever loyal servant, even if it means waiting outside a static building for eight straight hours. 

But my hands still shake. 

There's a slim chance he saw me. Glimpsed my hair in the lobby as I asked our receptionist to let me use the fire exit, caught a movement in the corner of his eye when I slipped through the car park and out of the rarely used second exit onto a back street. Maybe his car is following this bus right now and he's worked out exactly where I'm going. 

Maybe I'm just freaking myself out for no reason. (More likely.)

The bus squeaks when it pulls into a station and rolls to a stop. I let dozens of other people pass me first, finally standing when it's almost empty, and leaving with a small nod to the driver. I step out onto a street filled with people - it's rush hour lunch time, so that doesn't surprise me. Everyone has somewhere they need to be, including me. 

I pull my coat tighter around my shoulders, flip my hood up, and take purposeful steps down the street. Blending in with the lunch crowd. 

The Royal London Hospital is one of the biggest buildings in the city. Sad, really. One of our biggest buildings is where sick people go, where people go to die. It's not pretty but clinical, white and bright and always smelling like disinfectant. 

I hold my breath as I walk into A&E. The smell of them makes me sick, makes my head spin until I'm fifteen again, scared and dizzy. I don't like seeing the doctors walk around in their white clothes, or the nurses with their scrubs. I hate seeing families sat on the shitty too-small chairs waiting to hear news on their loved ones. 

You're a bad bitch, I whisper under my breath. You've got this. 

I've escaped Vik, at least. I looked behind my back four or five times walking over here and didn't see him once, didn't feel that familiar itch that tells me someone is watching. 

This is harder than I thought it would be. 

My plan is only half cooked - I was wary I'd be able to slip away, never mind travel all the way here without Vik or Damien or one of his others jumping out from behind a corner. Getting to the hospital was the only thing I'd thought through, actually being here...

My breath quickens. Disinfectant clouds my brain, makes the edges of my eyes go fuzzy. Tears threaten to build up in the corners of my eyes but I slow my breathing and press my back against a wall full of posters about different illnesses. 

"Are you okay?" A passing nurse asks, her voice soft and gentle. 

I realise my eyes are closed. 

"Yes - yeah, sorry. Uh, which way is the ICU again? I swear I'm always getting lost in here." 

She points straight ahead, past the front desk and down a well-lit hallway. "First left down there, then follow the signs." 

"Thank you," I breathe, attempting a smile.