Chapter 2
OC POV
Clawing my way out of the darkness I slowly became aware of my surroundings, the persistent beeping of a heart monitor, the burning brightness of artificial light against my closed eyelids and the roughness of well laundered sheets. Slowly I opened my eyes, a little at a time, flinching from the intensity of the hospital lighting. I looked around the stark hospital room, unsurprisingly I had no visitors, my parents would not know I was here and there was no-one else who would visit. Closing my eyes again I thought through the events that had brought me here, I could remember as far as saving Tom but after that my memories became fuzzy. Before I had a chance to check my wound the door opened quietly and a nurse popped her head around the corner. Seeing that I was awake she moved into the room and came over to me, picking up the chart from the foot of my bed. I became nervous as I realised my GCSE French wouldn't cover the language needed in this position and I worried that I would be unable to communicate with the hospital staff. Thankfully when the nurse spoke she had perfect English, removing my problem. I answered her questions as best I could, and requested that she not to contact anyone for me, I was still very tired and my thoughts slowed as the pain medication began to drag me into the darkness again, the nurse finished her duties and left so I could rest, promising to return to check on me in a few hours. My eyes slowly closed and I drifted into what promised to be a peaceful sleep, but that was not to be.
Tom's POV
The rest of the day ran smoothly with nothing but an increase in security to show for the events of the afternoon but I couldn't stop thinking about her. Why had that girl chosen to risk herself for me? What had I done to cause the other girl to attack me? Tilda looked after me for the rest of the day, placing a reassuring hand on my back during the press conference and making me smile with her dance on the red carpet, it didn't stop the blackness of my thoughts but she was like a candle fighting the dark.
The next morning I woke early, grabbed my iPod and went for my morning jog before breakfast. Once back at the hotel I ate quickly and showered before leaving for the city hospital, snatching up my phone, wallet and jacket on the way out. Walking along the street my eye was caught by a small gift shop with teddies in the window. Selecting one I paid the owner with a smile before tucking the toy under my arm and carrying on down the road. As a child I had always found comfort with my teddy, he kept me safe when my parents would fight; he still sat on a shelf in my room at home in London.
Arriving at the hospital I walked over to the front desk. Doing my best to describe the girl I asked if I could visit her, the receptionist smiled before calling another nurse over and having a rapid conversation in French. The nurse smiled, shook my hand firmly, introduced herself as Marie and began to walk down the ward, asking me to follow. As we traipsed down the hallways, past the branching wards, each with the beds full, Marie asked me about the festival and if I was enjoying Cannes. After two sets of stairs and what seemed like endless corridors we finally came to a stop outside a small private room. Opening the door quietly Marie let me in, gesturing to the chair on the far side of the bed. The figure lying on the bed looked vaguely distressed in her slumber, her brows furrowed; glancing over to the patient chart I saw that her name was Zoë. Sitting down I set the teddy beside the pillow and reached out to clasp her hand, rubbing my thumb across the back to offer comfort. Having checked Zoë's chart, her vitals and the bandage, Marie laid her hand on my shoulders as she left the room, gently closing the door behind her. I turned back to Zoë, studying her face as she slept, still holding her left hand in mine.
Minutes later and I felt a soft tug on my hand, I looked up to see Zoë toss and turn in her sleep, her forehead creased in distress, a single tear rolling from her eye. Moving my hand to her shoulder I touched her gently, trying to ease her discomfort.
OC POV
I was running, trying to get to him but I could barely move, like being stuck in treacle, I struggled but I was too late, the girl had got hold of his shoulder, twisting him round and pushing the knife into his chest. Only then did my feet start to move, flying me across the tarmac to his side, my hands fighting to keep the blood in his body but failing. I watched as the light left my hero's eyes. Dropping to the floor I collapsed beside his body, still griping his chest, tears slipping from my cheeks. My hands felt heavy, blood still staining them taunting my failure. I felt a tug on my shoulder as a security guard pulled me away, another laying his coat over Tom's body. Sobs ripped from my body as the initial shock fell away and left the raw grief of Tom's death, a hand fell on my shoulder, trying to comfort me but it felt strangely real, more so than my surroundings.
Stirring from my nightmare I slowly opened my eyes, blinking at the light, I could still feel the hand on my shoulder. Turning to see what was happening I couldn't believe it; sitting in the chair beside my bed was Tom, it was his hand that rested on my shoulder. I lay still for a few seconds reassuring myself that I was awake, that this was what was real.
