A young girl, Evette was her name, roamed the halls of London's Emergency Unit of Mental Health, waiting for her father to be released. She walked by all the rooms on his floor. 215, 216, 217, 218, 219...
Wait.
She found herself returning to the room 218, slowly stepping towards the doorway. A man in a hospital bed lay there, looking cold and lifeless as stone. She assumed that the man was in his twenties, as he looked a lot younger than her father. He looked dazed, but scared. He seemed a bit shaken up, emotionally scarred maybe? She didn't know, but something about him drew her to him. She looked a bit closer, examining the lost boy. He seemed to be yearning for something, more likely someone. He looked so lonely, Evette resisted the urge to run up and give him a hug. She was very curious about this man; his life, his friends, what had brought him to the current situation. Shifting quietly and studying her surroundings for witnesses, she moved angles and caught site of two other men sitting uncomfortably in the ugly, green hospital chairs. They were mourning, as if the man in the bed was already dead! But, the patient looked only numb. Staring blankly, eyes wide open, past his two friends. She got a shiver down her spine and turned to go wait in the lounge one again. She stil thought about the man and wished she could've helped him in some way, but alas, it is not in her hands.
After sitting in the vacant waiting room for almost an hour, the doctor came in to give her some information on her father and how he isn't well enough to be released to her and her mother just yet. It may take twice the amount of time they said he'd be released last time. He gave his apologies and retreated back to his duties.
"Wait!" Evette called after him, louder than she intended. "Please... Can you tell me anything about the man in room 218? What, " She paused, thoughtfully. "What has he been through?"
The doctor looked puzzled. According to the tests and actions that have been taken, the man was thought to die very soon. The girl looked about 12 to 14, what harm could she possibly do with this information? As no one was around, he kneeled down and decided to explain.
"The man in that room suffers from great depression. It was caused from the grief he felt for his best friend. His best friend commit suicide last year and he never got over it. He's emotionally scarred, he doesn't talk to anyone but himself and his friend's 'spirit.'" He put air quotes around the word 'spirit.' "Poor lad, his friend seemed to be the most important thing in his life. His other buddies try to help him out, bring him back if you will. Unfortunately, he won't come out of this phase. He won't talk, eat, he barely sleeps. He murmers and just-"
"Stares," Evette interrupted.
The doctor sighed a heartfilled sigh and nodded.
"May I know his name?" She questioned.
"Oh," The doctor combed his hand through his hair as he got up from his kneeling position. "His name is--"
"Chris?"
