I shot up, breathing heavily. My head instantly surged with pain. I groaned in pain and rubbed my forehead. I finally opened my eyes and light greeted me. I was in a room with white walls and blue chairs. Hospital. What happened? A woman walked in. She flashed a weak smile at me. She greeted me with a 'hello'.
"What am I doing here?" I asked. She explained what she knew, which wasn't much. It was just enough to remind me of the horrid things that happened. She asked me a few questions about how I was feeling and I answered them. She was about to leave, saying that she would be back with some painkillers for the pain in my head, when I stopped her by asking if anyone by the name of Dan had been here. "You just arrived not too long ago, but I'm sure someone has been called. I'll go make sure for you, if you'd like." I knew that only close family numbers were in the hospital records system. "Oh, he's not family so they wouldn't have called him," I cringed at the thought of them calling mum. We haven't talked since I told her I dropped out of uni. She nodded, "Well, is there any close family you would like me to make sure have been called?" I bit my lip before answering, "My brother, Phil."
The door opened and I saw Phil. Dan was right behind him. Dan's 'hobbit hair' was apparent and his eyes were bloodshot. Dan walked forward quickly and wrapped his arms around me tightly. Phil stood there awkwardly. Ignoring Phil's stare, I buried my face in Dan's shoulder. Dan pulled away. Tension filled the air. My eyes drifted over to Phil, where he was now looking down and running his hand through his hair.
"Phil wanted to tell you something," Dan said through clenched teeth, looking over at Phil. "Oh.. Uh.. yeah.." Phil looked up at Dan and then at me. "I'm sorry, okay. I'm sorry for blaming you. I'm sorry for yelling at you. I'm sorry for everything," Phil spilled out. It took me by shock. I smiled a weak, fake smile and nodded. I wasn't sure I could forgive him just yet.
**If I said anything wrong, I'm an American who knows pretty much nothing about British hospitals and such, so excuse me. Not to mention, I'm Southern and Southerners talk different than the rest of the Americans. For all of you that don't know, I'm part of the Americans that have the stereotypical Texan kind of accents (more or less). My accent isn't as apparent as the stereotype makes it out to be though (Alabamians rule, heh) so yeah. Ugh, I'm rambling. ANYWAY. Thanks for reading! Love you all! **
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Losing This War » Sequel to SMFM
Fanfiction[Trigger Warning: Mentions suicide, self-harm, and eating disorders.] ©TheMeganHowell 2014 [The second installment in a very cringy trilogy. If you haven't read the first book, don't read this. If you read the first book, still don't read this.]
