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"Relationship to the patient?"
"Mandy Katsaros."
I already knew the room number, but once the receptionist said it, I gave her a small nod and headed down the long, never-ending hallway.
Due to last night, I was still incredibly unsettled. I hated constantly looking over my shoulder and seeing paparazzi or people asking me why I did it.
Why did I do it?
I might have fucked up our career.
. . .
I pulled my hood down, heading into Mandy's room and peeking in. She was still asleep, completely quiet and peaceful. But.. despite that, she looked dead. She didn't look like Mandy. But I knew it was her.
Her hair was longer, now. Almost past her shoulders. She had one of Bill's rings on, and there were faint bruises on her arms and neck.
Mandy loosely reminded me of myself. And it hurt that I couldn't change it a second time. Instead, all of this, the smoking, the meth, the weed, it was joint after joint. She became addicted.
It got so bad that I'd seen Mandy huffing paint and glue and gas; all types of other stuff. Anything to get a high. I remember feeling like that, but it was never this bad.
I sighed, sitting down on the seat by her bed and leaning back.
She seemed a little more.. comfortable. I'd wished I'd come when she was awake.
"Excuse me, are you related to the patient?" A nurse asked as she stubbed a cigarette into her palm and put it in her pocket. My eyes followed, tilting my head. "No. I'm her boyfriend."
"Good enough." The nurse said. "You mind if I ask you a few questions regarding the patient?" She asked as she tapped her pen against the clipboard in her hand.
"Shoot." I nodded.
"Patients full name?"
"Mandy Katsaros." I muttered, my eyes flickering to the pen while she wrote. "Date of birth?" She added on.
"The twenty-third of february nineteen-ninety-one."
The nurse glanced back at me, then at Mandy. "She's 16?"
"She's turning 16." I shrugged, looking down as my shoes scuffed lightly against the dirty floor, and I adjusted my legs. "I see. Do you have any of Mandy's emergency contacts or her parents' numbers?" The nurse added on.
"No. Am I suitable?" I asked, taking the clipboard and writing my number in one of the boxes, then Mario's. "No, as in she doesn't have parents?"
".. No." I mumbled. She exhaled, grabbing her phone. "If Mandy doesn't have a guardian, I'll have to call foster services." She spoke quietly.
"You can't. She has her brothers friend! can't he just take care of her? Can't I? I'm almost eighteen!" I quickly protested, standing up.
"Sir, you have to understand that I will lose my job if I release Mandy without a parents consent." She said, stepping away. "Please. They'll send her away. I'm almost eighteen, but I can still get Mario to take her." I sighed.
She was quiet, looking back at Mandy and then down. "I suppose if your friend is over 18, he can take her." She mumbled.
I sighed in relief, nodding a little, stepping back and grabbing my backup phone as I watched the nurse leave. I called Mario and waited for him to pick up.
"Mario's phone," a girl mumbled.
"Put him on the phone." I said blankly, hearing a jostle before Mario answered. "Listen, I told you not to call this number, kid."
"You need to get Mandy from the hospital soon, or they'll put her into foster care." I muttered under my breath. "You don't gotta pick her up, but sign some forms or some shit. I don't know. But do it." I said curtly.
"I'll get her brother to pick her up. Don't call this number." He repeated before hanging up. I sighed, turning my head toward the nurse who had just entered again, and crossed her arms.
"Relax, bitch. I'm going." I breathed out as I walked out of the room, my shoulder brushing against hers and sending her a step back.
YOU ARE READING
The girl next door, - ᴛ.ᴋᴀᴜʟɪᴛᴢ
RomanceA raw and revealing look into the urban adolescence of 2007. Sex, drugs, and mischief, including five foreigners looking for any kind of colour in their no-good lives. ★ »-☠︎︎-+> 𝖛𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖐𝖆𝖚𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖟 1 on #tomka...