Colourless

Chapter Eighteen

My legs dangled freely over the edge of a stretcher bed as a familiar nurse tended to the large cut on my cheek. "I don't remember the last time those things were washed, so we'll have to keep an eye on it," she informs with a small chuckle, "We don't want it to get infected." Humming in agreement, I thank the nurse as she taps my thigh and prompts me to stand up.

Returning to the hall, I gingerly touch the gauze strip taped to my skin. "Dammit," I curse beneath my breath, spinning on my heel and just narrowly missing colliding with a frail body.

"Oh, shoot, I'm sorry—"

I gasp, "Holly? Holly Flanagan?" The young woman eyes me suspiciously, before her surprised look reflected my own.

"Oh, you're the one who found me, right?" She smiles, "Thank you, so much. You probably saved my life." Her body was still weak and she used the wheeling stand that held her IV drip as a makeshift crutch, her thin frame almost cowering against it.

Unable to formulate an appropriate response, I simply pull the necklace out from where it had been tucked away beneath my shirt. "Your grandfather, he gave me this."

Holly beams, her thin fingers reaching out to inspect the omega pendant. "Wow," she breathes, her eyes meeting mine, "You really do chance upon everyone, don't you?"

Beginning to take off the necklace, the young girl stops me. "You keep it... for now," she smiles sadly, "I don't want to lose it in this place. I hate hospitals."

"Me too," I gasp, clearing my throat when she laughs. "Do you happen to like The Great Gatsby?"

Holly nods, "I love it."

"Well, I've got some spare time, so... I could keep you company?"

***

Holly had laughed incredulously at some of Jay Gatsby's greatest exploits and had become infatuated with Daisy Buchanan — even after her exploits in the illustrious Chapter 7. Eventually, though, a nurse came to shoo me away. "She needs rest," the man told me, practically pushing me out of the door. "You can come back tomorrow."

With a wave, I stumble back out into the hall; finding Malik, near asleep, in a plastic waiting room chair. "Hi," I whisper, gently shaking him awake. He shoots upright, revealing his emerald eyes, and offers a tired, lopsided smile.

"Hey," he grunts, his voice still croaky, "I heard Charles got a little excited."

"Yeah... we should probably keep the weapons away from him. Especially the big ones." We both laugh, before settling into a comfortable silence. "We're okay, right? You and me?"

Malik nods, offering a smile, "Of course. I was just worried about you, cupcake. I'm sorry if I raised my voice." Holding out a hand, I mask a grunt as I hall Malik to his feet.

"Come on, handsome, walk you to your room."

Malik grins, "Ooh, handsome, hey?"