The Girl In Room 417

Untitled Part 7

           

The more I think about Emily, the more I think about the hospital. The more I think about the hospital, the more I think about the irritating girl in room 417.

Why do I find her so irritating? At first I thought it was because she was a privileged little girl who got everything she wanted. But that's not true. Repeatedly, people take the time out of their day to bestow upon me an anecdote showing 417's true colours. Selfless, kind, caring. All the good crap.

Okay, so maybe I was eavesdropping on the nurse's conversation whilst 417 had performed another group reading session.

But now I know that she isn't what I had first thought, why is she still so irritating to me?

Maybe it's because she's not really sick? She can't be, she looks so healthy and happy. Or maybe it's because I'm stuck referring to her as 417, she has to have a real name.

I wonder why she doesn't tell anyone, maybe it's just as bad as Bennington.

I feel a sharp impact on the back of my head and curse automatically.

Swivelling round, I come to face Max, a friend of mine who also works with me at Michael's Mechanics. He's laughing and I roll my eyes, wiping my oily hands on the sides of my jeans.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" He pipes up and I glance at my watch. Usually I'd be at the hospital by now.

I curse again, blaming 417 for occupying my thoughts and consequently causing me to be late.

I thank Max on my way out and head for the bus station.

It's a fifteen-minute journey, which could be a lot worse. I sit behind an old lady, whose hair looks uncannily like wool and opposite a tank-like man whose eyebrows dominate over half of his face.

Tank man looks over and I quickly divert my attention elsewhere. I do not want to feel the wrath of his brows.

I impatiently jiggle my leg, not being able to relax in the slightest.

I like my routine, Emily is used to my routine. What if she thinks I'm not coming? That I've forgotten?

I lazily jog into the hospital entrance, my feet guiding me on the journey that they've seemingly taken hundreds of times by now. I glance at my nails and grimace at the black that's caked beneath them. I hadn't even washed my hands yet.

I don't bother to glance into the windows of 417, far too occupied with the task at hand.

Emily looks unbothered by my late appearance.

"Hi!" She says cheerfully and I huff, moving into the bathroom to wash my hands.

"Sorry I'm late." I murmur and she waves me off, staring intently at the TV screen.

"What kept you?"

"I lost track of time." I admit and she looks curious.

"You never lose track of time. What where you worrying about?"

"Nothing." I roll my eyes.

"Don't lie to me, Ben." Her voice is a warning and I proceed with caution.

"I was thinking about you and the hospital." I admit, leaving out 417.

She frowns but nods anyway.

"What's 417's name?" I ask abruptly, after a few moments of silence. I hadn't meant to ask, not really. I don't know why I did.

"I don't know."

"Why not? Aren't you curious?" I probe.

"Not really." She says with a shrug, her eyes narrowing.