I hadn't eaten a thing for three days now, but I knew that nothing was wrong with me though. Maybe mentally, but that wasn't worth to worry about. Why would anyone want to straight up kill my parents? They were good people - everyone loved them, but the detective said that it was not an accident. There is a need for a closer investigation, but the woman was sure that they were killed before the house was set on fire.
I had little idea of how to cope with this. Most of the time I kept being silent, breaking out a single word was a struggle. Doctor called it some kind of shock, I can't quite remember the definition. It felt strange that I wasn't feeling any grief, not to say that I was happy, I simply didn't feel much at all. I was more occupied by thoughts like: where am I going to live and will I be put in a dormitory since We did not have any close relatives... My parents never talked about my grandparents, they said that they were long dead and that answer satisfied me at that time, but now that I have more questions there is no one to give me answers to them.
Three hours had passed with me sitting in this hospital room, staring at the perfectly white wall in front of me. There wasn't a single stain on it. Nurse came in to check on me a couple of times, I noticed the door opening and closing, she would ask something... but I wasn't hearing her... the wall was way more interesting, it was starting to bother me, actually.
I couldn't sleep much or maybe I didn't sleep at all. I closed my eyes, opened them, looked at the ceiling, closed my eyes again. Once I opened them there weren't ceiling above my head, instead I was staring into the skies. Plenty of stars, I tried to count them, got to 374 when a falling one distracted me. It looked as if it was falling right at me. The more I looked the closer it got. I sensed uneasy feeling in my stomach, but I couldn't take my eyes off of it till the light coming from it was too bright. I put my hands in shield and waited for the inevitable. When I took them away it was already day. 09:24.
My appetite had come back as quick as it had left. The feel of energy rushed through me and I was in a need for something to occupy myself with . It was midday already, the sun was up and while I was standing at the window and the number of people out on the streets blew me away for a second. It felt strange since it's nothing unusual, it is work day after all - the unusual part came from me. The feeling reminded me of something familiar even though I couldn't quite get a hold on what exactly was the emotion. Looking at them I felt like I knew them, or at the very least I was very interested in every single one of them, my mind was starting to make up stories, theorising about their lives - every single one of them had their little mission... I could feel it. From all of those people, one person cought my interest.
It was a woman in her late thirties, maybe early forties. She was a businesswoman judging by the way she was dressed and her walk showed her high rank, she definitely was respected. But the more I kept stalking her with my gaze, the more I started to not simply think of her, but know of her. There was no way of explaining it, it felt like I was implanting her life and thoughts, worries in me. I was the one in a hurry, worried if my daughter is okay. She had suffered in a car crash last evening, now she was at the hospital in a coma. I had stayed at her for the night, didn't close my eyes for a second. I had to be at the meeting so I left her. My husbands blaming stare is in front of me and I can't get it out of my head. All that he does is judge me - how can he not understand that in the corporate world there isn't room for emotions. If I am not countable on then they will put someone else in my place. What if he's right? I might have made -
The woman went around a corner and I was pushed back to reality.
''Woow... I aam loosing my mind'' I whispered to myself as I slowly walked to my bed, arms and legs shaking. This is definitely some kind of side effect of post-traumatic stress that one of the doctors were talking about. I was still in shock when the doors opened. First walked in the doctor who visited me quite frequently these couple of days, he might be a psychiatrist, I couldn't recall and the second person was someone who I had never met before. He was wearing a dark blue suit and leather shoes, in his right arm he was holding portfolio. He stood right to me, keeping his distance as the doctor, an elderly man with glasses and wearing his white coat - it reminded me of my chemistry lessons- moved towrads me.
