Nephele or better know as "Nelly"-the popstar is tired of ...
- being constantly on the road
- not be able to date whoever she wants
- the many fans that think that she is theirs
- not having a place that she can call 'home'
... she wants- no needs...
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After I left Nell behind in the room, where she would stay for who knows how long, I walked quickly home. Luckily mom and dad weren't home when I packed Nell her suitcase, took her guitar, laptop and her notebook and sneaked out again and went back to the hospital. Doctor Tobias let me in through the back door.
"Did anyone see you?" he asked, taking over Nell's suitcase.
"Nope. Does the Alpha gets a signal when this room is used?" I asked, following him through the hallways.
"He does but I have disabled it before we entered it," he said while he opened her door with his batch, the scent of spring meeting us. Her scent was becoming stronger with the hour.
"My mom responded and asked me to hide myself or use a lot off perfume. She suggested to take some extra insulin. I'm not sure why more insulin would help," she shook her head. "She will sent some more tea as soon as possible."
Doctor Tobias left the room, and I placed her stuff aside. "Are you alright Nell?" I asked although I felt her uneasiness.
A tear slipped down, and she whipped it away. "I don't know Julia —" she sighed. "What is she hiding from me? Even now she doesn't tell me anything."
"Hey, come here," I sat down next to her and wrapped my arms around her, when Doctor Tobias came back in and placed some stuff on the table next to the bed.
"Do you know what this is Nell?" he asked, showing her something that I didn't recognized.
"No, I don't."
He nodded, "that's what I thought. It's to do a finger prick test. It gives us a good indication of what your blood sugar is at this moment. I will take off some blood after that to examine your blood more thoroughly. Can you wash your hands first?"
After she washed her hands, Doctor Tobias performed the test and looked with a deep frown at the result. "At what age were you diagnosed with diabetes?" he asked.
"5? Maybe 6? I don't really remember."
"Do you remember to suffer, for example, to urinate more; a dry mouth; drinking a lot; blurred vision; losing weight and so on?" he asked next.
"No, not really, but I was so young," she shook her head.
"How many times do you take a shot per day? And when was your last shot?" He asked.
"Per day?" she shook her head. "A shot every 4 days. My last shot was 5 days ago."
He nodded with a deep sign, "I don't think you are diabetic Nell. Did you pack her 'insulin' too?" he asked me.
"Yes, I did," I opened her suitcase and handed him the bag.
"I'm going to test that too," he said and cleaned everything up. "Julia, here is a badge so you can enter the room."
