nosocomephobia || OPEN

[gerda]

n. fear of hospitals

After nearly an hour in the waiting room, Viola finally realized she was not as much of a priority as she had thought. Gently she pressed a folded square of cloth against a her forehead. Hot blood had already seeped through and rendered it virtually useless, but she wasn't about to give it up. It was more of a psychological comfort than anything. If only there wasn't so much of a mess everywhere! Her shirt was ruined and new shorts were ruined. What did head wounds have to bleed so much, anyway!? Her free hand sat atop her thigh and fidgeted endlessly. She was experiencing a rare moment where she wish that she smoked or a new coins tricks. Just so she could have something to do with her fingers. She had started off by tapping them rhythmically on the posh magazine table to her right. But wasn't sure that it would have sent the right message. Viola wanted to appear that she was in control.

Viola sat on a teal and russet chair with stainless steel trimmings. All around her the world was buzzing with activity. Crash carts wheeled and people shouted chaotically and everything smelled too clean. Too many people crowded the lower precedence emergency room – dozens – and it made the air close. From what she had gathered they had been an accident involving a city bus and a drunk truck driver. No one died and mostly every one was left bump and bruises, but it was required that each person involved was examined thoroughly. Internal bleeding? Brain contusion? Hairline fracture? All sorts of thing could go wrong. Viola hated hospitals. Hated them. She hated hospitals more than mere human words could express, it was something only that dark part of her soul could understand. It was a confusing emotion since Viola truly did not understand it's source. For some unknown reason doctors, dentists, optometrists were on her list of things to avoid. Too clean. Too bright. And where was the color? It was just something that got under her skin.

Vi took a deep breath as to uncoil the knot of nervous energy growing in her gut. She wanted to do something with her free hand, and she wanted to keep her mind busy. She glanced around, her eyes landing on the posh table. A woman’s health magazine rested upon a pile of equally boring print. She 'hur-hummed' for a moment and decided it was better to learning about '75 Hot Body Moves' was better than having a melt down. Causally she placed the magazine on her lap and leafed through it. Staring at picture of impossibly beautiful women reminded her of the last word's her roommate had left her. It was something along the lines of, “I'm a REALLY bad friend! Your-um-head-um... Oh god I'm really sorry, but I have to go, uh, work! I'M SORRY! I'll come see you later! Pick you up after my shift!” Viola said a few comforting words and encouraged to be at work on time. Really, she was fine. It was all fleshy and it wasn't like her brains were leading out. A few bandages, maybe a stitch or two and she's be right as rain!

People seemed to suddenly quiet as a plump woman in banana yellow scrubs entered the room. All eyes fell on her, but they were promptly ignored as she turned her attention to the clipboard tucked in her left arm. “All right...” she said in a casual way, “I need to see a... Vi--” Viola's brained blasted at a mile and minute, well, possibly fast. Vi as in Viola!? She was Viola! It was her turn! And without thinking she reacted and bolted to her feet – magazine flying from her lap. “Me! That's me! I'm Viola!” she exclaimed in just under a shout. The nurse opened her mouth and looked awkward for a moment. Then she looked a little embarrassed, but not for herself. “No... I'm sorry, Viola,” she took care time to emphasized her name, “I'm looking for a Vi-o-let L’Amour...” And just on cue Viola eyes lit of almost as bright as her cheeks. Oops. A little mortifying? Yeah...

She returned to her seat, but not before leaning down to snatch up the enthralling feminine publication and toss it on the table. Her mother had warned her long ago about being an eager beaver. Viola settled herself and her eyes caught sight of a little girl. She looked fine, no bleeding or anything. She stomped ungratefully forward with her mother toward the nurse. Ah. Violet L'Amour. A sensation of utter defeat washed over Viola and she suddenly decided it was best to check out the status of her feet. Yes, her feet were always her go to when she had made a fool of herself. Good things, feet were.

[ELIZABETH WILLIAMS]

Eliza unsteadily crossed the room, looking for a seat. The policeman accompanying her let go of her arm gently, gesturing towards a free chair next to a woman around 20. He said something gruffly before walking away. Eliza froze, staring at the black seat. She was very pale and covered in purple bruises, though otherwise she was fine. Looking around, she realized she must be much better off than the others; the woman next to her was bleeding in the head.

Eliza stiffly sat down in shock. Her brain replayed what happened:

She was in a very sunny mood. She was going to Central Park in the morning, hoping to get some nice footage. Nothing could put her down, not even the scary New York City traffic. Everybody else seemed jolly too, perhaps because it was such a great day. Eliza hummed to herself and she clutched her camera; though it was rather early in the morning, if she got something good at the park maybe she could merge it with that other film she had shot the other day. Everything was right as rain, and just great.

Crash.

Eliza could hear a few isolated screams, but she was stuck staring out the window in shock. A car had hit the bus and she could hear a police car slowing down. People panicked, pushing their way to try and open the door. Eliza's head throbbed like mad because it hit a sharp edge, her legs had hit the metal sides, and her shoulder had a hard impact by the seat itself. But she wasn't worried about this... It was last year all over again... No, no! She couldn't think about that, not now. She needed to focus on getting out, so she did. The policemen had managed to pry the door open and people streamed out, cradling their bruises with care.

Eliza was the last one to get out. A policeman noticed her and called a paramedic, who took a closer look and vaguely told her to get to an emergency room. The policeman who had eyed her earlier carefully led her into the car, obviously knowing she was in shock.

Now here she was. Eliza blinked slowly, staring at her feet. Her head was hurting now, really badly. But it wasn't something physical, but instead mental. She couldn't really make anything out... Except, her brother Asher wasn't there to comfort her like he always was, and neither were her parents.

Where was Asher, and mom, and dad? They were supposed to be here. Eliza, confused, turned to her left.

"Are you okay? What happened?" She asked mindlessly, staring at the woman's bleeding forehead. She couldn't quite remember where she was, but she knew her name. She was Eliza Williams, a senior at Baum. Yes, and she was in an emergency room. No, Eliza couldn't quite remember why... but that wasn't important. What was important was this lady's head was bleeding and she should get help.

Notes// Just to clarify, Eliza has a memory problem since a car crash about a year ago. It's more short term, but her parents and brother are dead. So... yeah. Just to make sure you understand. xD

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