Osiria Rose [✓] - MAJOR EDITING

5 - Flora and Fauna

My room bears no difference from the one I'm currently in right now.

There is a faint glow of sunlight piercing through the window on the left side. The sun is hiding behind the thick layers of puffy white clouds, which may signal heavy rain later on.

Going for a weekly check-up at the hospital brings mundane results, yet they need to keep a consistent track of any possible changes. Unless one is passionate about bringing a smile to a patient's face, I do wonder if the nurses and doctors become bored with seeing different patients having similar symptoms throughout their lives.

"Father ..." I croak out.

He appears at my call, peeping up from the corner of my vision.

His dishevelled hair, the crooked glasses sitting on the tip of his nose and the bags under his eyes bring a small ounce of reassurance that he's still alive. Father has a bit of plumpness on his cheeks and a light blush of warmth.

"You called?"

I prop my arms to sit up on the uncomfortable bed and he supports me from behind. I lean on the standing pillow against the frame and ease on the cushy surface. Mother isn't present in the room; to which I assume she must be at the cafeteria.

The hospital can be quite stuffy sometimes, despite the plain white walls. To sit at the cafeteria, basking in the fresh open surrounding is a need for her. At moments like these, I can't ask her to stay in one place all the time. She has most of her friends working in this hospital.

Father sits back down on the single leather chair, his weight sinking directly on the chair. He props his fist under his chin and raises his brows at me.

Last night's encounter with the 'angel of death' has pretty much distracted me for the whole day. It may as well be my brain doing its best to conjure up a being as a form of entertainment. I can't use my phone that much, let alone scroll through the screen.

"Father ... can I ask you ... something?"

"Yes, MinYoung, what's wrong? You craving for something?"

My lips tug up into a small smile and I slowly shake my head. The smile on my face turns down into a line, bitter at the thought of having to think about this specific question in the first place.

I can ask Father anything, but sometimes I have to think before I utter them. They might drive my Father confused as to whether these symptoms may be linked to my sickness. The same goes for Mother. She may grow more concerned for my well-being.

I link my fingers together and close my eyes.

"Is it possible ... to see things, for no reason?"

The faint machine beeps from the corridor and fills the temporary silence. My nose twitches at the strong smell of antiseptic. A subtle shudder escapes his mouth.

"What sort of things?" he asks calmly.

"Figures ... maybe? Is that usually a sign ... for something?"

"How long did you see this figure for? And when did it happen?"

I open my eyes and stare at Father. He has his attention on me this whole time, with fixed concentration, regardless of his sleepless nights.

Would it be wise for me to tell him about the 'angel of death'? Would he even believe me if I told him about last night's encounter, about the angel's offer to help? What sort of help did he even want to offer in the first place?

Is it one that would get rid of the pain permanently, including me?

"Not for that long. And it happened ... before sunrise," I lie whilst looking at him straight in the eye.