(A/N: Sorry for the irritating re-writing and re-posting and stuff. This is the final draft.)
The bleached-clean mist surrounding the hospital was already infiltrating her car. Rose was growing accustomed to the place; its metal panelling and scuffed concrete were dauntingly familiar. It felt like going to the Dentist, a sickening knot forming in her stomach.
The lights of its main building were buzzing gently, and slowly revealing the tired shadows of nurses, stretching and yawning before their night shifts began.
Rose leaned over her steering wheel, looking up at the sky through the windscreen. A speckling of stars had emerged as the night settled.
She had been here too recently, it seemed, and her eyes glazed with tears.
She drove reluctantly up the tarmac, approaching the bigger car park of the two, her eyes darting as she pulled into a space.
A flash of memory sprung her.
It filled her mind with a static whir, and she stopped short of reaching the revolving door into the main foyer.
She was a toddler, and must be as old as Tony, but she can't tell for sure.
She was playing alone in the living room. She was trying to walk by herself, to get her mother's attention, but Jackie was busily chatting on the phone in the kitchen. She interjected each sentence with how brilliant their new cordless phone was, rocking it fondly in her palm.
Rose trapped her fingers in the door hinge between the two rooms. She was teetering on the carpet and her small hands fumbled in the crevice. She let out a shriek, and being a relatively quiet baby, her mother panicked and dropped the phone.
Jackie was driving to the hospital before Rose's eyes had time to focus on the streetlamps lining their road. The car jerked abruptly as she turned the steering wheel.
Rose's pale hand had barely bruised; but she was young and fragile. Jackie had become inadvertently vigilant after Pete's accident, safety proofing the house beyond recognition
They had waited for an hour in the emergency department, before someone called them over.
'She trapped her hand in the door; I, I didn't know what to do. Do you think it's broken?'
'Let me have a look.' The nurse knelt down, her eyes smiling. 'Hello sweetie,'
Rose presented her balled hand, which was cradled at her chest. They rolled their eyes at Jackie, who was shaken and held Rose stiffly at her waist. There was nothing wrong with her, the nurse said, and Jackie nodded shakily. They had squeezed Rose's arm with a cold hand, and Rose leaned into her mother.
Her eyes focused back into consciousness and she walked through the revolving doors into the reception.
She smiled at the woman on the front desk. It was Jenny today. She was chirpy and part-time, and they sometimes met at the water machine on the third floor, near the new toilets with fancy hand dryers.
The lights were still warming up, and staff had started trudging past Rose for their night shifts. Everyone seemed to have the same expression, tired yet fulfilled, as though they all knew that their job was worth the ridiculous hours.
Jenny was only working there until the end of the month, when she could start backpacking. She had offered to show Rose her route map, but had been declined each time. Rose liked to get to him before the visiting hours were ending.
The lift hummed. One of the cleaners, his name might be James but she can't remember, is stood there tapping his feet, listening to headphones. He has dyed black hair, which suits him.
She stepped off at the fourth level, and followed fluorescent corridors until she was facing his suite. The handle felt stiff, and fear swelled in her eyes. When it opened with a push, she paused, as she had done before, and fixed a bright smile on her lips.
'Hi you, how're you feeling?'
He smiled weakly, and shuffled up in the bed until he was propped up on the pillows. His face was lined with exhaustion.
'Did anything happen today? I was going to come earlier but I wasn't sure if you'd be awake,'
She stood next to the bed, hugging his hand in hers. The light was dim and cold, and there was a glass of wilting flowers on the windowsill which tried to mask the clinical smell. She looked around the room, the faded suede chair in the corner, a large window with the blinds half-closed – last visit she had broken them, but he insisted he preferred them like that.
He lifted the sheet of the bed and she slid in, curling herself up to him.
'I missed you, today.'
'I wish I could be with you there,'
'I did the food shop. I bought some of that soup you liked last time.'
'The carrot one?'
'Yeah,'
He coughed shakily, knowing it would not ease his discomfort. She stroked his cheek.
'Will they be discharging you soon?'
'They didn't say,' he coughed again.
'I wish you weren't like this,'
She looked at his sallow complexion, swirling with veins. His skin clung to the bones, caves starting to form beneath his cheekbones. He choked on his words, wheezing heavily at each spare breath.
'Me - too,' he responded, finally.
Rose winced, placing a hand on his chest. She nuzzled into him, and they sat in silence, until he interrupted it with a phlegm-filled choke. She leaned away from him, looking into his drained eyes.
'I haven't talked to the doctors since yesterday. Do you think anything's changed? Do you feel any…?'
He shook his head.
'Do you want a drink? Some water?' She wriggled from the bed, shuffling from the room and into the corridor.
Suite three's patient was at the water cooler. They smiled politely at one another, the silence broken with dribbling water.
This was his second admission this year.
He had been cycling home from work – a dull job at an accountancy firm near the train station, and had started getting tight chest pains. It felt like someone was crushing his ribs together. He couldn't breathe. He skidded onto the pavement, dropping the bike near a tree before collapsing at its roots.
Rose filled the plastic cup to its brim, spilling a few drops as she walked back to his room. The door closed shut behind her.
