Prologue - GASP

   I open my eyes and stare at the pristine, white ceiling that adduces no signs of discontent. The brightness isn't too good for my tired eyes. While I squint, my brows meet in the middle of my forehead, before a frown takes place. Only when I raise my hand to gently massage my temples, in hope that my headache would go away, I notice that I am provided with an oxygen hose. My eyes wander with a mixture of curiosity and fear around the room, which seems surprisingly clean and sterile. I've never seen a place so clean like this one before.

   On the left side of my metal bed is a small, blue tray that is equipped with a bowl and a glass of water. The few bubbles tell me that it must have been standing there for a while. I would risk a look into the small plastic bowl and find a white, viscous substance. The food in front of me is not particularly fresh, so I opt for the glass of water. No one has ever cared for my drink, let alone food.

   With all the force I try to lift my arm and win the fight against the pain in my chest. Only now I notice the needle in my left hand. Curious eyes wander along the hose that leads under the bed. As much as I want to see what it leads to, I decide to not even give it a try. I don't want to risk anything.

  My physical condition and strength of my muscles, allow me to lift the glass with much effort. Slowly, I draw it towards my dry mouth, with the intention to not stylish myself. The cool water awakens my senses. Again, my eyes wander around the room. This time, I recognize the curtain to my right. It is white, too, but it is the first time I'm noticing a trace of dirt at the end of the cloth that hangs to the floor. Lost in thought, I put the glass back on the tray and wonder who or what might be hidden behind it.

  All of my memories are wiped out as much as the reason for why I'm in this room, plugged into different equipment. I don't understand. Has it become so bad? I put my forehead in wrinkles. My empty mind is trying to look for a possible solution for this exceptional stay.

  I need an explanation, clarification, any hint. Something that would inform me about why I'm in this white place. I want to know who is there beside me. When I'm in the building, which I'm suspecting to be trapped in, then I could be in this room, both, alone or with someone else. Maybe the person over there has gone through what I went through? Maybe he or she can tell me?! Maybe it's him, Casper!

Maybe, maybe, maybe. If I could only move and find out.

   My fingers wander along the rough material of the thin quilt, which, though not much, protects my body from the cold. The thin blue stripes intercept as the dotted blue material ends and terminates short before the metal of the bed. From my neck down to my ankles I feel naked from the side which is turned to the mattress.

   I want to check my suspicions, just as I hear a gasp behind the white curtain and it frightens me. Tense and with a trembling lip I swallow down my fear and try to sit up a little. My strength could still be used for a move to the glass, but sitting up seems to be another problem. The pain that passes through my chest and makes my breathing more difficult, is way too heavy.

   I hear a rumbling, then heavy footsteps. They are irregular, walk sipping on the squeaky floor of the room. Sometimes I hear higher rattling, then the steps become louder and I recognize the black shadow, which is reflected on the shiny floor.

  My heart starts to beat faster as I nervously bite on my bottom lip.

Who is that?

Will they hurt me?

   My toes cramp up and my hands are fisting the thin blanket between my dainty fingers. The pain is getting stronger, the faster my heart beats. I feel as if my chest could explode in any second. The pressure is insufferable. Then there is the headache, the fear of the inexplicable hoses that lead into my body and the person who seems to be with me, in the exact same room.

  Suddenly the curtain is torn to the side with full force and I cringe. His gaze scans the undiscovered area until it hits me. He doesn't seem as if he has himself under control, tumbling with slow steps towards me and grabbing the metal frame of my bed, so he wouldn't tip over and fall.

  It's a young man, mid twenties, quite tall and somewhat intimidating, in my opinion. I'm still nervously chewing  on my lower lip, getting a closer look at him.

   He has dark, curly hair, which is probably combed to the back by constantly passing through with his fingers. On his features prevails pure drowsiness, while he looks at me with a frowning brow. His eyes, an emerald green shade that is almost completely covered by the black of his pupils, the white; bloodshot. Unlike me, he is wearing his everyday clothes; tight black jeans, a matching colored tank top and a plaid shirt on top. My eyes wander to his shoes as they find the cause of the previous, heavy footsteps. Leather boots that go up to his ankles, decorate his big feet. His pursed, plump lips are looking soft and seductive. Stop, wait ... what does he even do here?

   From what I've seen so far, I can tell with certainty that this man is drunk. They probably put him in here to sleep it off. But why did they put him in my room and not in any recovery station? Those exist in hospitals, right? I am sure that I am in a hospital. It is the first time that I can look at these walls from the inside, and so far, I don't like it here.

   The huge guy in front of me gasps one more time. It is a guttural, harsh sound that gives me goose bumps. I don't know if he wants my attention or he really has the urge to loudly clear his throat. The scent of drugs and smoke rises into my nostrils and makes me wince. Is he part of the plan?

   I can clearly remember it. Only a few days ago I had to stand in front of them and go through what they wanted to let out physically, just so I could sit in the corner of the smelly room, crying again. There it smelled just like out of the man's mouth in front of me. Cigarettes, drugs and alcohol.

   I have a pain in my chest, that I've almost forgotten about, as he suddenly speaks to me.

"Hey, sup?" His slurring voice echoes through the room and I need a moment to let his words sink down and search for a suitable answer, because even I don't know why I'm here nor what I'm exactly doing here.

"I-I don't know." This may isn't the best answer, but I couldn't think about something better to say.

   He is no longer able to respond, as a young woman dressed in white enters the room. Her face is pure rage. She grabs the man by the sleeve and drags him to the second bed, which I haven't paid attention to, until now. It seems to be easy to persuade him to lay back in his previous position. He immediately stumbles backwards and falls onto the thin mattress. Within seconds he is kicked out of this world, lying there peacefully, eyes closed, mouth slightly opened. The woman in white still makes a few changes to his position before she tucks up the blanket, turning to me.

"These men, who always think that alcohol would be the best solution." Her auburn, strawberry blonde hair is tied in a strict ponytail and  I can't find a single wrinkle on her white dress.

"Ms. Rees, I may call you by your first name?" Perfectly plucked eyebrows lifting, while the nurse gives me a hint of a smile.

   I nod and let go of the thin blanket for the first time in a while, leaving my fingers tintgling slightly.

"Well, Victoria, I'm Clara, everything's ok with you? Do you need anything?"

  I nod once again.

"What then can I do?"

I urgently need to go to the toilet.

"Can, uh, can I please use the restroom?" Only now I realize my hoarse voice that sounds anything but healthy.

   Clara is in deep thought for a moment, until she finally gives in and emits a deep sigh.

"Yes, yes you could try it for the first time again." Try... for the first time again?

  I will not ask, but just go as quickly as possible to the toilet. The scent of Clara's parfume burns my nostrils. Vanilla. Strong vanilla! It smells way too intense! However, I have to --unfortunately --  endure this on me, if I want to go to the bathroom.

  The tube that surrounds my face is immediately removed. Quickly, but not without pain, I stand on my own feet again and notice how small Clara is. Her braid just reaches up to my chin. And she has managed to get the man next to us without a question back into his bed within seconds?! She deserves my full respect for that move!

   While she supports me with her arm, we go past the second metal bed of the room. I peek over to the sleeping curly head. I find nothing special, except that he is very much asleep. His mouth is still open and his eyes are closed, while his arms just and legs spread out in all directions. The sign at the foot gets my full attention when I read the man's name.

Harry Edward Styles

February 1st 1994

- Alcohol Recovery -

"This is Mr. Styles, I would stay away from him. He has to sleep it off before he can talk to someone. That's been the third time that he woke up so far. Actually I just wanted to go to look after him, I didn't know that you were already awake," Clara murmurs, who thus interrupts my thoughts.

   I smile politely and try to prevent myself from asking why he has to be in my room. Especially since I now know that he isn't as old as he looks. And that's not even it, because I have been right with my assumption all the time; he is really here to sleep off the effects of alcohol in his blood.

   I'm pretty wobbly and unsteady on my own feet, so I'm very grateful for any help from Clara. She brings me to the door of the bathroom and from then on I'm completely on my own. The white door closes and I approach with uncertain, small steps the loo. I just don't dare to take a look in the mirror.

  I lift the toilet seat and carefully sit down on the cold porcelain. So...this guy's name is Harry, he is here because he has probably celebrated a little too much last night. But I still don't know why I'm here.

   The only question of so many unanswered questions in my head is, why am I here...

Why me?

---------------------------------------------
Question of the chapter: Why do you think Victoria is in the hospital? Leave a comment down below!