Flurries of red and blue lights, followed by numbing darkness. Men and women in pale green masks, peering down at her. More darkness. The worried faces of her adoptive parents. More darkness. A man with a bush of curly, dark hair. He had pale skin and greyish blue eyes. He seemed concerned. More darkness. A white room. A white bed. Lots of white. The scent of disinfectant. It was disorientating. She welcomed the darkness when it embraced her again.

The man was still there when she woke up. He looked asleep. How long had she been out? Her last known memory, a certain one etched within her brain, was of taking a multitude of household medicine… she needed that high, but she was empty in the financial sense. She couldn't afford another hit. Dandy was getting more and more expensive, not that she noticed. She was too desperate for her high by the time that she went to him.

She had overdosed on the paracetamol… the ibuprofen. Her adoptive parents would know now of her occasional hits. She'd be killed for sure when she got home. A small essence of laughter left her lips for a moment as she imagined their reaction. Angry. Disappointed. Disbelieving. They wouldn't understand how their intelligent and perfect, albeit adopted, daughter could even dare do something so stupid. Oh, if only they knew.

"Hey," she called out to the man, "Are you attempting to keep that failing semblance of sleep?"

"Indeed I am, little Georgina." The man seemed to have not moved an inch, still looking down at the hands folded across his solar plexus. "You caused your parents quite a scare."

"If my so-called parents had any care for me whatsoever, they would have noticed in the first place. They didn't, so they obviously do not care. They just don't want to lose the money they gain by taking care of me."

"Astute deductions, little one."

"How did you get in… before? I saw you…" Her words were slurred slightly, a side effect of the anaesthetic, no doubt. "With the doctors."

"I have my connections." That was all she heard before the darkness overwhelmed her again. When she next awoke, the man was gone.

"Bored," she moaned, elongating the word. Her head was resting against the pillow only barely, her dark hair contrasting against the sterile white. She shifted slightly and her head was hanging off the edge of the bed, rather than on the pillow at all. She blinked numerous times. The wall was even more boring than the plain, white, tiled ceiling – if that was possible. When she sat up again, her neck hurt and her hair felt… strange against it, as though her neck had decided that the weight of the hair was unneeded, but not uncomfortable. She had counted the ceiling tiles a number of times. There were one thousand and three, each tile being about an inch and a half squared.

Nothing seemed able to save her from the boredom.

"Where do I begin… with this life I'm living in," she murmured, missing the loud, raucous music that she listened to only nights before. How many nights… who knew? She certainly didn't. In this horrid sterile environment, there were no books, there was no music, no entertainment except the mindless chatter of the nurses, the rambling of her own mind. There seemed only to be boredom, sleep and medical staff.

What was it like for people who weren't her, she wondered. Would they be as bored as she was? Would there be as much… nothing for them?

A/N: Sorry about the long wait - Georgina refused to comply... (Selfish little... EEP DON'T HIT ME.) However, she finally decided that I was interesting enough to deign me to write - thankfully. Please review - Georgina and I shall await the new reviews eagerly. Yes, I mildly edited the first words of the Lostprophets song, Burn Burn - my favourite Lostprophets song (Georgina's is Where We Belong... probably because she's still searching for... HEY I SAID DON'T HIT ME ¬¬) Well, I may or may not be going to school today - therefore, there may or may not be a new chapter up by about 5pm. Ciao C: