The Infirmary

1: London Calling

As Mary stared, her stricken expression mirrored on the face of the man before her, the small part of her that continued to function tracked back to how the Hell she'd gotten here.

It took a minute; to remember, to put herself back into the moment where she'd been ambushed. A... Distance away now, more than she liked to think about.

She'd been visiting her parents for the weekend; and while folding some laundry in her room and swaying to an indie/alt playlist on Spotify, had watched suspiciously as they'd entered the room together with tentative smiles. She'd known then that something was wrong. But back then, they'd just tentatively brought up introducing her to someone; and knowing full well she'd be back in the city within the following two days, had chosen the path of least resistance and shrugged off it ever amounting to anything more than a silly anecdote.

After all, how could it? She was in her final year of medical school and she'd just finished her elective in her parents' trust - it hadn't been a topic entirely unexpected, but once she wrapped up the paperwork at medical school and started her job, everyone would be too distracted to think of it again. Not to mention that, once Mary actually knew enough about this guy, she'd be given rife enough reasons to reject him. 

They were just asking for permission to answer somebody asking questions about her. Because they believed they wanted grandchildren, because society had told them so. What was the worst that could happen? There would be a million exits available at any given time, not to mention the mental fire exits Mary always kept handy.

And yet, ironically... Mary had become so caught up with everything else - moving from her student house to an adult house, sorting out the paperwork of her General Medical Council registration, making sure all of her clinical sign-offs and records were in order for the new hospital trust she'd be working in -, that keeping one hand on the steering wheel with all of this had become the last thing on her mind. And just like that... It was almost a full year later. Mary couldn't even pinpoint a turning point, not really.

But today, this this? This she knew exactly how to track back. This had started off as all of Mary's favourite days did; a cool summer morning in the city, buzzing quietly to life as she'd begun her daily commute.

Automatically, that part of Mary's brain began to undertake a fast rewind. Forget this situation; right now, her concern was this minute. Just how had she gotten here?

Right here, right now, this second. How the fuck had she landed herself in a situation like this?

. . .

6:48am
Shoreditch, East London

"How does the living room smell like boy again?" Mary groaned in disgust, upon walking into their living room; although clean and filled with early morning sunshine, the cool air also smelt like... Stale aftershave. Accusingly, her eyes fell to the tall blonde in the corner, who had frozen with his Cheerios-filled spoon mid-route to his mouth. "... How?"

Spence - the aforementioned tall blonde - shrugged, humming much too innocently through his cereal for Mary to believe it.

"I genuinely don't know, I lit a vanilla candle in here yesterday." A voice from behind her sighed and somehow, her disdain being shared only irritated Mary further. "I blame Spence."

"Fuck you, I've only just sat down!" Spence managed through a mouthful, though with little conviction. It was too early for him to be particularly animated.

Spencer and Lewis - known lovingly as Spence and Lou within the confines of the house -, were two of Mary's oldest friends and, for reasons on mornings like these that she didn't particularly understand, were two of her three housemates. The third was Catrin, a friend of Mary's who had graduated the year prior. Catrin hadn't been planning to work in London; she'd spent her first year of compulsory post-graduate training, known rather boringly as Foundation 1, at the trust nearest to where her boyfriend - George - had begun training for some form of military job that Mary didn't totally understand. But six months later, George had been offered the opportunity to fast track his career, in exchange for eighteen months on a submarine... And so Catrin had decided to return to London, where Mary was staying. They were living in a newly gentrified area of Shoreditch, paying only for bills and utilities, thanks to George's uncle - a high-ranking officer in the British Navy - who had 'access' to the property, offering it to them as a favour to George.