[Viola]
"And, my dear child, I am afraid of what she might say."
I finish the diary, again, and glance over at Todd. His noise hasn't opened up today, but his chest still heaves rythmiclly. Sometimes, I wonder if it hurts him. Someone knocks the door, and opens it. A spackle walks in and walks around the bed that lays in the centre of the room, and removes the bandages that are tied tightly around Todds chest. weeks later, his wound is still a charred, scarry mess. The new settlers are due to arrive tomorrow, and i wish Todd would be able to see this, but the look from the spackle tells me this is highly unlikely.
"Well, Miss Eade..." He starts, while smothering ointments and potions across Todd's chest. I don't tell him that i'd love to be adressed as Mrs Hewitt.
"He's not looking so good today, I'm afraid. Not bad, but not great." The spackle says, in the echoed noise they have. I know it's bad, but i can't help thinking: If only you were more like the mayor- having cures before you try to kill people. Suddenly, I'm glad i don't have noise. I hope that when Todd wakes up, his noise will be back. I hate his silence. But it's not his silence: It's the mayor's silence. I nod, as he begins to tighten the bandage around his chest again.
"How long has is taken the last person or spackle to recover after an injury like this?" I ask, hoping it is something like 3 weeks, but the spackle shakes his head.
"No-one has even survived past the blast..." He sighed, sorrowfully, before leaving the hut.
I wonder what will happen when Todd wakes up. Will he remember me? Will he remember Himself? Will i have to tell him what we've been through, what we did, what we are? Will i have to re-live those things I'd rather forget, that stuff i wish had never happened?
Will i manage to tell him who we really are?
Will he understand just how much i need him?
