The house no one Knows about

TWENTY

It's been seven days, no police sirens, no sign of my parents, no more conversations with Gabe and no sign of life in Bambi. She was meant to wake up yesterday but instead she had a seizure.

Actually, she had four.

The fourth one was the worst. She was involuntarily slamming her head against the floor (she was shaking so much that she fell off the bed). Her fingers vibrated and every bone in her body shook. And he whole time her eyes were shut tight. I couldn't look at her like that. I've been sleeping in the hospital for days now and yesterday I spent the whole day by the side of her bed waiting for her to open her eyes and call me the anonymous attractive boy who is always watching and drives a Ferrari 458 Italia. The six doctors were also watching her closely throughout the whole day yesterday but after her last seizure they stopped watching her. They've been discussing her case from seven o' clock last night and are still discussing it at seven o' clock this morning. Dr. Chrissie got pretty fed up with Dr. Nathan and from what I heard she nearly punched him and claimed that she could do it if she needed to but as far as I know, Dr. Chrissie and Dr. Marin are definitely taking control of the whole thing. And that makes me feel comfortable. I stand at the door and watch her because that is what I do best. Today is the 30th of December; she was in a coma on Christmas day. It was quite disappointing because I was hoping to take her out that day and I even bought her a present and everything but she was still in snow white mode and there was nothing I could do about it. Today while sitting beside her bed I just realised that I don't know her birthday, her favourite colour, her favourite food, her middle name, her dreams or ambitions.

The doctors have told me over and over that I can speak to her and she will hear me but it feels different not being able to hear her hilarious replies and sarcastic comments. When I leave the room, I walk around the hospital for a while before I discover the garden. I never knew why hospitals had gardens but today I realise. In a world of medication and that dreaded result that can change your life forever I guess you need the colour and bliss of a flower. I sit on a bench and breathe in the scented roses and carnations. Little kids run around happily and hold the withered hand of an old woman in a wheel chair who is most likely their grandmother. There is a kid here who is going through chemotherapy. All her hair has fallen out and you can tell that she is a girl because of her eyes. She waves at me with one hand while fingering a dandelion in her other hand.

I wave back and when I look at her; it's not with pity but with respect. A tall, dark-skinned boy walks in. His eyes are dark and filled with horror. Instead of walking he staggers.

'Dean Thompson?' he calls

I hope no-one saw me turn. The dark-skinned boy is Izzy. He staggers towards me and grabs my shirt. He chooses his words and whispers them slowly.

'Is she dead?'

I shake my head and he slumps down beside me; uninvited.

'So, I woke up this morning and realised that I never loved her'

'Really?' I remain uninterested.

'Yeah, I realised that I cared about her so much because she reminded me of my sister, my younger sister'

'What happened to her?'

'My parents got divorced; my dad took me and my mum took my sister'

'Sorry about that'

'Don't be, the year I got to spend summer with her in Miami, was the year Bambi and I started having issues.

'Why did you go out anyways?'

'She took very deep interests in me but the age difference always freaked me out and when I stopped over thinking it, it started bothering her'

'Did you ever-'