It has been nearly five years since she has set foot in this place. Everything has changed, new faces and places, but the smell is still there. People always say that they hate the smell of hospitals, but she likes it. She has spent so much time in them, she feels safe: someone always had her back when she was here, someone watching out for her.
Outside of the hospitals, she had lived in a constant state of uncertainty. Although there had been pockets of happiness, shopping with her mum or when her dad was away, for the most part she would just be waiting for the next blow up, wondering where she would hide this time.
Of course that all changed with life with her grandparents. Her every need met, every question answered, and every tear wiped away. As a child, she had been the centre of their world. Maybe out of guilt over their own daughter, or because they wanted to prove something, they treated her like an angel.
She goes to reception. She remembers sitting on the counter, infuriating "Uncle Noel" behind the desk while she waited. He's still there now. He doesn't recognise her, it's been too long, and he sees new faces every day, why should hers stick out more than the others?
"Can I see Dr. Hanna please?"
"She's with a patient at the minute, but I'll let her know, take a seat and she'll be with you as soon as possible."
She sits down. She waits for what seems like hours, the busy ED rushing past her as she loses herself in her memories. The grasp of her father's hand in hers, the sight of his alcohol-fuelled rage. The feel of her mother's embrace, the sound of her screams. Those few months were like a whirlwind – fear, grief, anger, loneliness. But things had been different with Zoe, she had felt like she belonged somewhere. Life may have been confused and scary, but Zoe had held her hand and told her that she was going to be ok.
"Sharice?" That voice. Confident, authoritative. She turned around.
"Zoe."