"paging…dr.lewiss. please report to emergency ward 3. dr. lewiss" hospitals are strange places. people go in and people come out, but no one ever looks happy doing either. death meanders at every corner while medical magicians in white cloaks scramble through hallways crammed with pleading faces. the doctors pull out their sthescopes and distribute hope, false hope, just enough to satiate their charges until their next visit. spencer contemplated these facts as she sat against the white wall adjacent to ashley’s room. she was scratching at the scuffed marble floor subconsciously, unaware of the young doctor who had stooped down to meet her gaze. "i’m not moving" "i wasn’t going to ask you too. here–" dr. thomson held out a small bottle of evian. spencer didn’t move but instead shifted her stony gaze to the left, dismissing his futile attempt to talk to her. defeated, dr. thomson stood up and made his way to the cross-armed blonde who was waiting for him down the hall. "did she say anything?" "yeah, ‘i’m not moving’" "jesus…" "it’s the first thing she’s said in hours, paula" mrs.carlin rubbed her temple, anxiety setting in. she scanned the hall, resting her gaze on her daughter who looked as though her world had finally come crashing down.

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"clay! where have you been man? i’ve been patiently waiting to school you in super smash bros.-check it out, mom got it all set up for me"

"nice, glen. nice" clay fell back into the soft blue seat next to glen’s bed. "where’s spencer anyways, isn’t she supposed to be stopping by, showing her big brother some love?"

"you’re not going to believe it, but ashley’s dad died. everyones out looking for her. spencer’s doing the same too"

"what, no way. i mean…i hate the chick, but that sucks." the boys sat in quiet contemplation. "yo, let’s smash some skulls!" glen exclaimed. clay shook his head in disbelief as he got up and passed glen a controller.

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"mrs. davies, i assure you, your daughter is going to be just fine–" the tall brunette pushed past the scrawny doctor in a wave of cheffone, making a point to pull off her obnoxiously large sunglasses as she did so. "we were able to bring her back to consciousness but there are still large deposits of alcohol in her system. however, it’s not enough for her to have suffered alcohol poisoning. she’d be eligible for release in the morning…" "i want therapy" "for you mrs.da–" "no, not for me! for my daughter. i want therapy for my daughter. don’t you people have that kind of thing here." despite the thousands of dollars ashley’s mom had invested in top of the line make up the little man could still see the bags that had formed under her eyes, the lines that were invading her face. "umm, yes. we could do that. but according to her records she’s already had therapy–hours of it. maybe it would be best–" mrs. davies cut him off. "don’t tell me what is best for my daughter. i’m her mother. i’m her mother." the male nurse nodded so enthusiastically that his head looked in danger of flinging off his neck. he left her at ashley’s door, taking one last glance back as she turned the cold metal knob. in her delusion she hardly noticed spencer’s eyes boring up at her from the floor.

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"aiden!" "mrs. carlin, how are you? is spencer here?" the black haired heart throb had just walked through the automatic doors, breathing in the stench of rubbing alcohol and rubber gloves. at the mention of her daughter’s name, paula’s arms folded themselves and her posture became more erect, more forced and official. "yes, she’s sitting outside ashley’s door like a statue. she only talks when she’s in danger of being moved, and she’s been refusing food and water for the past 2 and a half hours" bitterness oozed out of every syllable, but so did frustration. aiden even sensed helplessness. he looked at the floor, searching for an appropriate response but not finding one. "spencer’s going to be able to speak with ashley in a few minutes. why don’t you go up and talk to glen…i’ll send someone to get you when spencer’s done." aiden nodded and meeted mrs. carlin’s gaze. "okay"

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the door to ashley’s room swung violently open before slamming shut again. spencer waited until the sharp sound of heels stampeding on marble floor faded before pulling herself off the cold ground and pressing her fingertips to the icy metal. she hesistated before pushing it open, almost wishing she hadn’t when she saw the eyes that met hers from the hospital bed. they stood like that, feet apart, the knob etching an imprint in spencer’s back, daring the other to break formation, give up, run away. but neither did. a hoarse voice, broken and fraught with sorrow, penetrated the silence. "i’m sorry" it was ashley’s.