I haven't spent a lot of time in hospitals so I was pretty unprepared for the maze of corridors, all titled under specific ailments, several of which 'Jane Doe' could be in.

I had walked in with a determination that had taken the whole bus ride here to muster, but it faltered when I engaged in a futile attempt to remember the ward I was in last night. Not that it matters, she's probably been moved by now anyway.

I was off to a great start.

I spent so much time going over my alibi (I was going to claim to be her brother) I didn't think about actually getting to her. This is supposed to be the easy bit and I can't even get this right.

I passed a cafe and the children's unit before I spotted a map pinned to the wall and figured out that I could at least narrow down the possible wards she'd be in. ICU was probably my best bet, I scanned a few other options and noted that I may need to check into the clinical psychology unit before I left because what I was about to do was bat-shit insane.

The map said the ICU was somewhere on the bottom floor but it was difficult to figure out where. Everything was colour coded in an attempt to be easier to correlate but the achieved effect was just more confusing. I ended up lost in a storeroom, running from the cleaner ladies who preceded to scream a load of curse words at me for being a damned idiot.

Somehow, I managed to find my way to the ICU and booked it for the receptionist desk. I power walked my way down the log corridor but before I could turn the corner I slammed my back against the wall.

Hidden by that corridor, my adventure had been further complicated by the sight of a tall, brooding, middle aged detective. The detective who'd questioned me yesterday, of course, because of all the detectives it had to be the one who'd recognise me.

In truth I probably should've expected this. 'Jane Doe' in the subject of a pending investigation and from what I gathered yesterday Detective Martins is leading it.

I stayed where I was, hidden by the corner and watching the detective pacing stress-fully. I tried to think of a plan that didn't start with 'leave'. I considered waiting upstairs for a while until he left (he was bound to at some point) but then I figured someone would just replace him. Detectives don't just sit outside at random. They're pretty damn consistent with it.

Maybe- and it's a big maybe- the detective would be okay if I saw her? Sure it might be strange and totally illegal and completely creepy but I'm sure if I just tell him how I feel he'll understand?

Yeah, no. What the hell is wrong with me? Did I really just think that a police officer would let a kid who's bunking off school creep over some unconscious underage girl? Maybe I subconsciously want to be arrested, maybe I've finally lost the will to live because I sure as hell would not do well in prison.

But I'm here now, I have to do something. I came here for a reason. My trauma is legitimate, I deserve answers.

I sound like a pussy. I'm a cockroach about to get squashed.

I took a small, nervous step out from behind the corner expecting the detective to pounce on me immediately. He didn't even see me, he was staring at his shoes facing my direction.

An instinct took over and I turned on my heel toward the ICU doors where she must be. I reached out my hand for the door-

"Mr Whiddon? What're you doin' here?"

Shit. I don't know why the hell I thought that'd work, I really do have a death wish today. I turned back on my heel to face him, crinkling my face up to embrace for the impact and also trying to look as innocent as possible.

He looked confused and kept glancing behind me as I awkwardly shuffled towards him like the chicken boy I was.

"Um, Detective Martins?" I finally grabbed his attention and he began studying me intensely with his small grey eyes making me feel like even less of a man than I already did. Him and Ewan would make a great team in diminishing my self-worth. Or at least what was left of it."I know I'm not really supposed to be here but- I- uh... I guess I just..." I couldn't put the feeling into words. Everything was still such a blur in my mind and I didn't really understand why I felt the need to keep tabs on this girl. A small part of me had wanted to run this whole time and forget it. But the larger part of my brain just felt restless. I had this huge responsibility dumped on me out of nowhere and had no time to process it. Just as quickly as she had came she was gone, and that just felt eerie to me. It was like she wasn't real, like this whole dramatic situation that flared up all these horrific images and feelings of stress and isolation was just some psychotic meltdown and I needed to see her. To talk to her. I needed her to tell me it was real and how it happened so I could stop feeling like she was some kind of ghost.

"You're not supposed to be here, Charlie. So what brought you here?" He didn't seem mad, he was definitely regarding me warily but it didn't feel wholly negative. People often saw me as a posh twat (and admittedly it was kinda true) but my goody-two-shoes reputation did have it's advantages with adults. I'd rather it worked well with girls but I guess beggars can't be choosers.

"I just wanted to see if she was okay. I felt... like I needed to keep helping, I guess. Like I couldn't just leave her here and forget about everything." I couldn't communicate how I felt to him or anybody for that matter. The detective leaned back a little and looked a bit perplexed. Perplexed is better than mad though.

"That's..." He paused, "Kind of you... I suppose. But as I'm sure you know, an injury like that takes more than a day to heal." His tone was... testing. Maybe he just thought I was a bloody idiot, he wouldn't really be wrong.

"I mean, I don't expect her to be normal. But I thought she might be... stable?" I was picking from words I'd heard used on TV programs now. This seemed to settle the detective a bit but not much and I wondered why he seemed to be testing me. I expected him to ask me a lot of questions, to be wary of me being here but not exactly like this. It was like he wasn't asking the right questions, the scenario wasn't playing out like one of the dozens I'd created in my head in the few minutes before I came to talk to him. "Is she?"

The detective put his hand on my shoulder and guided me away from the entrance which admittedly made my heart sink a little. It was a long shot, I suppose. He led me to the seating area by the reception located between the two wards which was almost empty. His seriousness made me nervous, amplified by the fact he looked a decade older than when I'd saw him yesterday. Seems he didn't manage tiredness too well, I'm sure I didn't look much better.

"Tell me, Charlie- can I call you Charlie?" I nod and I'm grateful because I hate the 'Mr Whiddon' crap. "She lost a lot of blood, you remember that?" I nod, "We sent people out to take pictures of the scene and what we got back- well, you weren't kidding were you?" I'd told it was Tarrantino levels of blood. "I was going to talk to you about this at the station later on tonight but seeing as you're here, it'd be foolish not to take advantage. Even if it does break the rules a little." He winks at me like we're best buds. My skin crawls a little, I hate it when adults try to relate. "I hear you got into Cambridge, your mother's very proud." When did he speak to my mum? "So, you didn't find that amount of blood to be abnormal?"

I am a smart kid, so I know this is a trick question. "I've never seen a real life gunshot wound and she was there and she was alive and it didn't seem to me like the blood could've came from anywhere else." I curl my tongue around my mouth and bite down on it.

"The nine-nine-nine operator told you to press down on the wound right?" I nodded, "So you saw the injury then?"

"Yes." I whisper. I suddenly don't want to talk about it.

"Where you surprised to see the gunshot wound? Or had you guessed from the blood?" Was he accusing me of something? It sounded like it but somehow it didn't feel like it. For his benefit (and partly for mine, I didn't feel like pissing him off) I tried to think back to that night but I was still exhausted. The fish tank on my left blurred into a mess of bright, pretty colours and my mind span out into a blissful nothingness.

Then, in the centre of the ocean blue, a small droplet of orange turned into a deep red and spread like ink in water, vandalising the peaceful nothingness. My body spasmed back to attention and my body shivered. When I glanced casually to the right in an attempt to avoid the fish tank, my body jolted again, creeped out by the detective's intense gaze.

"Are you alright, Charlie?" He was definitely suspicious now.

"I'm just tired. I didn't get much sleep last night." In a way it was true. I had to be up early for school, I think in total I got about four hours sleep, something I wasn't really used to. Unlike most of my friends I didn't sit up all night on my computer, I liked my beauty rest.

"Charlie," He said it slowly and then paused. I could hear my heart pound in my ears and feel it jumping in my chest. My stomach was unfortunately and fortunately empty. It grumbled and intensified the feeling of nausea and light-headedness. "Charlie," he repeated, "I'm going to tell you something I shouldn't and you're not going to tell anyone or else we'll both be in the dog house, understand?" I nodded because pissing off a police officer wasn't on my bucket list of things to do before I die and if it was it'd be at the end. So I nodded and tried to relax my furrowed brow which was now adding to my headache. "I want you to understand why I'm going to tell you this. It's actually very convenient you came here of your own accord because I was very tempted to bring you."

"Oh shit. Has something happened?" The thoughts fly into my brain and out my mouth before I can catch them.

"No... and yes... It's complicated. Look, I don't think you know what happened in your tree house anymore than I do. But I think we both know it wasn't some simple accident."

No I don't know that. But I suppose she did fall through the roof of my tree house?

"So, as you're probably aware it's against the rules for a policeman to give any details on a case. But today, I'm going to break that rule because in less than 24 hours this... this incident," he said it like it was a bad word, which I suppose it was because incidents don't tend to be good, "has made me more confused than anything I've ever encountered. Now, when a child is involved I want to get them to a safe space as quickly as I can and if there's a chance you can help with that, I'm gonna take that chance. Even if it means breaking a few rules. But you have to promise me to keep this between us." I was more than happy to promise.

"Yeah, of course. But she's okay, right? She's okay now, she's not-?" I was sure he could hear my heart thumping, it was drowning out his voice. I was panicking, he was raising more questions than answers. He wasn't talking about her like she was... y'know, dead.

"She's more than okay." His tone was so grave I initially missed what was said. "She's more than alive. She's in there now, walking around like it never happened."

"Huh? Wait, I don't understand-" Suddenly I wasn't in the reception area of an ICU ward. I was in my broken tree house covered in her blood with the detective still studying me. The thought crossed my mind that I shouldn't care this much, that it was weird. I didn't know her, and maybe that's a good thing, I shouldn't be having a panic attack over her. But I was. Someone my age was shot and landed in my tree house. I had saved her life! It chilled me to my core, it haunted me the moment he told me, it was like this cold, dark world hit me like a brick. Now, what was he trying to tell me? A victim of a shooting was walking around like it never happened? "Wait, what does that mean?"

"Exactly the question I'm landed with now. The doctors insist it's a real bullet, that it went into her liver and was there for 12 hours. When she came in they were sure she'd need a blood transfusion and probably a new liver! But here we are. The doctors seem to find it strange and I certainly do. But it is part of my job to find out the facts and the professionals are telling me the fact is this kid should be dead." He was frustrated and confused even though he seemed much calmer than me. But his deadpan words and their nonchalant delivery cut through me like an icy blade. "I was called as soon as they found out it was a bullet wound. Whilst you were talking to the doctors I watched them take it out, trying to figure out this mess. Five hours later I'm called back, told that she's awake and talking. Keep in mind, the doctors gave her a ton of anaesthetic. Doesn't that seem strange to you?"

He seems like he's venting. Maybe I'm not here to answer questions, maybe I'm like a stress ball for him to squeeze until it frays.

"I don't know why you're telling me this," I suddenly wished I hadn't came, "I don't know anything, if you think I do-"

"I don't." He stopped that train of thought right away but I didn't feel much better. I was still confused and scared. These kind of things happen in movies or books but not in real goddamn life! "But I do think she might talk to you." Like the detective I didn't know much about medicine but I did know this situation wasn't bloody normal-

Wait.

Talk to me?

"She's talking?" He told me she was up, walking around, but talking? Communicating, like a person? Like someone who wasn't just shot 24 hours ago? I suddenly understood his mania.

"She's talking. But she ain't saying much, at least not to any of us." I stood up but I didn't want to go. I had come here for this, I had come for answers but I knew- I knew I wouldn't get them. I guess I didn't know anything. This whole thing was crazy, this detective must be crazy, maybe I really am crazy? Maybe we should both go to the clinical psychology ward? Or maybe this was still the same psychotic breakdown/fantasy?

"Charlie, Charles. Look, I don't expect you to do this if you don't want. Hell, you're not even supposed to-"

"I do want to." I protested before I'd even realised. A part of me screamed to walk away- no. Run away. But what I'd said was right. I came here to talk to her and maybe this was proof of fate. It was fucking crazy, but even if it was, going into that hospital room and finding out for myself was my best option.

When I zoned back in I saw Detective Martin was glancing round the corner at those double doors. I wanted to look to, but it was as if a monster was standing right behind me that I didn't want to look at. I stayed frozen were I was, willing to let the detective make all the moves from this point onward. Crazy or not, I was getting what I asked for.

Detective Martin nodded at me and gave me a smile of approval. "Alright, sit and wait here. I'll wave you in." He seemed jittery in a professional way. He left but I didn't sit. I stayed glued to where I was and let my mind think over all the information I'd just been bombarded with.

I didn't have nearly enough time before a bulky shadow passed me and left the ICU ward, one of the other police officers must've been inside just as I'd thought. The sight of him awakened my senses and I braved looking at the double doors. Not a second later Detective Martin stood waving me over. I stiffened but my legs eventually jerked me over to him.

"Alright Charlie, I'm taking you in with me. I want to see if she recognises you." I wanted to tell him that was impossible but nothing seemed impossible right now. "I'll ask the questions, you just sit there and chime in with a few light notes. Don't ask anything to heavy right now and I promise eventually I'll be able to help with any of your concerns, but for today, just keep it friendly. Nothing too heavy, alright?" I was more than happy to go along with whatever he wanted right now but I couldn't really communicate that so I stiffly nodded. "Okay, okay. You alright?" Another stiff nod. "Good." And with that he placed his hand on my back and guided me through the double doors.