Disturbing the Peace

Chapter 17

Hey guys, before I start writing, I'm going to say something a little more serious than usual. I am an advice giver, so if you guys ever want to private message me if you want to talk something out, I will never turn you down; if I am not prepared to give an answer to your particular situation, I will still talk it out with you, but I will also tell you that I'm not so sure about my answer. When I say if you want to talk something out, that can range from if you have depression to if you are having a problem with your friend.

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"Ma'am, it's going to be okay. Ma'am. Ma'am!" He has been saying the same words to me for the past 10 minutes, since I began bawling when the doctor began performing defibrillation on Leo. I couldn't hold it in when the first shock jolted through my best friend. I'm a big baby; I know. After that, the doctor looked at me as though he couldn't understand why I would be in hysterics. It's a wonder he got a doctorate. Wait, he did get a doctorate, right?

Willow, stop freaking out. Of course, he did.

Anyways, since my outburst, I was kicked out of the operating room and into the empty waiting room - the perks of living in a small town-and I've been bawling my eyes out while some nurse has been frantically trying to calm me down.

He sighs. "Ma'am, please stop crying!" he pleads.

I sniffle. I try to hold my breath, but I end up making those hiccuping noises that you make when you close your mouth and try to stop crying. I take deep breaths, trying to suppress the image of Leo's motionless body being shocked by those defibrillators. Yep, I'm scarred for life.

I recall the last time I was with Leo, before the accident and smile at the thought. Leo was so happy and so was I. Actually, the whole gang was so happy. We all were the picture perfect friends in tie-dye clothes and bell bottoms. What made us perfect was not that we were actually perfect in any way; it's that we were happy. Actually, I don't even know if we were happy or just drugged. I don't know what was real and what was fake in these past 4 years. I barely remember my own life.

My eyes widen in realization of this fact. The nurse has already gone back into the operating room after being called in. That leaves me alone in the freaky waiting room. With no light shining through the large windows and see-through doors, the fluorescent lighting gives the room an eerie glow. The entire room is white, besides the dark specks on the flooring; in fact, I think everything in this hospital is white except for the outside. Somehow, the lack of color makes it even scarier, when it's empty. The tattered white chairs and dangerously swinging lights make it a scene fit for a horror movie. They could even hide my body right in the ceiling tiles, and it wouldn't be that hard.

I really need something to do with my time or I'm going to imagine more scenarios of my death.

"Willow," a feminine voice calls, "Willow? Willow Anderson?"

"Oh thank god," I say too loud.

She, whom I have now discovered is a nurse, furrows her eyebrows and tilts her head at me to explain.

"Oh, it was nothing, it was just that I was thinking about how I could be murdered, before you came." By the time my brain catches up to my tongue, it's too late. A hear a clang, which would be the harsh sound of the nurse's metal clipboard against the tile flooring.

"Are you okay, honey?" she asks, seemingly ready to run. I wonder what she'd do if I turned out to be a loon? I think she'd run away screaming.

"Um, yeah, I'm just really tired," I pause. "How is Leo?" I ask timidly.

"He is in critical condition. We thought some of his vital organs were going to start shutting down." I cringe as she continues, "The doctors did the best they could. He is still alive, as of now, and there is a possibility of him getting out of this hospital in some months."