'Girl's' POV

I woke up in the dark, feeling disoriented and anxious. The room was quiet except for the steady hum of machines and the occasional creak of the old building settling around me. My chest felt tight, as if someone were sitting on it, and it took me a moment to adjust to the dim light filtering through the blinds. My heart sank when I realized that the person sitting beside me wasn't Carlisle, like usual. It was Josh.

Josh was slumped in the chair beside my bed, his head resting on one hand while the other loosely held mine. His breathing was slow and even, and the rustling of his white coat as he shifted slightly in his sleep was the only sound besides the machines.

I stared at him, trying hard not to cry. Josh was nice—there was no denying that. He always had a smile and called me "kiddo," treating me like a little girl who needed comforting. He was softer than Carlisle, with hands that felt warmer and gentler. Sometimes I'd been able to wiggle out of certain tests and examinations with Josh, but not with Carlisle. Carlisle was different to Josh —more authoritative and boundaried. If Carlisle said something was going to happen, it was going to happen. But those boundaries also made me feel safe and cared for, even if I liked to test them. He took the role of the parent that I never had. I knew that he'd always stand my ground if I was in danger.

I'd been in hospital for 5 days now, and Carlisle had stayed by my side throughout. I had no idea when the man slept, ate, or even went home, but judged it must have been whilst I was asleep.

Josh stirred beside me, and I froze, hoping he wouldn't notice I was awake, that he'd go back to sleep and leave me alone. But he didn't. He blinked a few times, groggy, and then sat up straighter when he saw me.

"Hey, kiddo," he whispered, his voice rough with sleep. "You're awake."

"Yeah," I whispered back.

Josh leaned in closer, squinting as he took in my appearance. "You okay?" he asked. I nodded, not trusting my voice to stay steady.

"You don't usually wake up at this time," he observed. "Do you need any pain relief?" I shook my head.

"Why did… why did Dr. Carlisle leave?" I asked, my voice cracking as tears started to well up. I didn't want to cry in front of Josh, but the absence of Carlisle felt like a betrayal, even though I knew it wasn't really his fault.

"He's home for the night to rest, so he can look after you properly tomorrow," Josh said softly. "He's coming back. I promise."

I wasn't sure if I believed him. Maybe I had annoyed Carlisle with all my attempts to bite him. I wouldn't blame him if he didn't want to see me again.

"He's coming back," Josh repeated with a reassuring smile. "He even bought you a little gift earlier," he said, reaching for something at the end of my bed. It was a small white rabbit plushie with long ears. I forced a small smile, trying not to let on how much it meant to me. It was just a plushie, but it made me feel seen and cared for in a way I hadn't felt before.

"What do you want to call him?" Josh asked, placing the rabbit gently in my arms and stroking its ears.

"Flopsy," I replied. It felt a bit childish, but it was the first time anyone had bought me a toy.

"It's nice to meet you, Flopsy," Josh said with a smile. I wondered if Josh thought I was younger than I was.

"Have you had pets before?" he asked, probably just trying to make conversation to comfort me, but it felt exhausting. I had to be careful with what I said to avoid giving away any clues that might lead to my father.

I shook my head. "You?"

"I have two kittens—Simba and Nala," he said, pulling out his phone to show me some photos. I wasn't a big fan of animals, but I could see how having pets would be nice, even if they couldn't talk back.

"Do you like cats?" he continued. I wasn't really in the mood for small talk. I wanted to ask more important questions.

"Why does everyone wear different colors?" I asked. I had seen a lady pass by earlier in a pink outfit and wondered why everyone didn't wear pink if they could choose.

"Scrubs?" he asked. I nodded. "It's based on what department we work in and what position we hold. Mine are baby blue because I'm a resident, but some of the other doctors, like Carlisle, wear dark blue because they're attendings."

"What's the difference?" I asked, curious.

"It's based on how many years we've been practicing. Dark blue means more experience than light blue," he explained.

"How about pink?" I asked.

"That's from a department called obs and gynae who help deliver babies," he said.

I nodded, trying to take it all in.

"Is Dr. Carlisle your boss then?" I asked, trying to understand their hierarchy.

"Sort of. He's a nice boss though," Josh said with a smile. "He's very patient with me and very knowledgeable."

"What do you do if you get sick? Do you make yourself better?" I asked, genuinely curious.

Josh chuckled. "No, we usually have to see our own doctors unless it's something simple."

I nodded. That made sense.

"Do I have to be here?" I asked, the question making Josh shift uncomfortably.

"Well, yes. You're quite poorly, so you need doctors and nurses to look after you," he said gently.

"I know. But can I leave whenever I want?" I clarified.

Josh hesitated. "Uh, well, no. Carlisle and I are making decisions about your treatment right now, and those decisions involve keeping you here."

I didn't want them making decisions for me. I wanted to be in control.

"What if I make a decision?" I asked nervously.

"We would listen to you, sweetheart. We want to make sure your voice is heard. But sometimes we might need to overrule it. Usually, your parents would handle that if they were here," he explained.

The thought of my father making decisions for me sent a shiver down my spine.

"Why?" I asked, feeling a pang of frustration.

"Because you're a child," Josh said gently.

I was fifteen, which felt quite far from being a child, but I didn't argue. I had a feeling he thought I was younger. Part of me wanted it to stay that way, as it meant I could dodge the difficult conversations and play dumb. I also didn't want to risk being moved to an adult ward. I liked Carlisle and Josh, but I worried that maybe they only treated children.

I noticed the wristband on my wrist. It itched at my skin. Slowly, I read the numbers… DOB: 12/06/2015. That made me, what, nine years old?!

"What are you reading?" Josh asked.

"Nothing," I replied quickly, not wanting to react to it.

"Have we got your name correct?" Josh asked with a timid smile. I glanced at the wristband again. Li… Lill… Lila? Lilla.

"Lilla," I said out loud.

"Pronounced Lee-lah, I think," Josh said.

I nodded. "That's right," I confirmed. It wasn't my real name, but I was grateful they weren't pushing me too hard about my identity.

Josh seemed relieved that I wasn't correcting him about my name. He settled back in his chair, giving me a reassuring smile. "Lilla's a pretty name," he said softly. I shrugged, not knowing how to respond. It wasn't my name, so I wasn't going to accept it as a compliment.

"Do you like it?" he asked, trying to keep the conversation light.

I hesitated before answering. "It's fine, I guess," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I could tell Josh was trying to make me feel comfortable, but part of me was still on edge, wondering what he really thought of me.

He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms a bit. "You know, I think names are pretty interesting," he said, glancing at me. "They can say a lot about a person."

I looked at him, trying to figure out if he was trying to hint at something. Did he know I was hiding something? Was he testing me? I pushed the thoughts away, trying to focus on the present. Josh didn't seem like the type to pry, at least not like Carlisle might. Carlisle seemed to be always asking the big questions, whilst Josh tended to just stick with the poking and prodding and doing what he was told.

"Do you like your name?" I asked, surprising myself with the question.

Josh chuckled, a sound that was surprisingly warm. "Josh is pretty common, so it's not all that special. But I guess I've grown into it over the years."

I nodded, though I wasn't sure I understood. I hadn't had the luxury of growing into anything. My life had always been about survival, about staying one step ahead of whatever came next.

"Simba and Nala are cool names for your cats," I said, trying to steer the conversation away from myself.

Josh grinned, clearly pleased that I remembered. "Yeah, they're pretty great. They're always getting into trouble, though. Simba thinks he's a lion, and Nala… well, she's the brains of the operation. She's always figuring out how to open doors or get into places she shouldn't."

I could almost picture the two kittens causing chaos at Josh's place, and the image made me smile a little. It was nice, talking about something normal, something that didn't involve hospitals or doctors or the constant worry that had been hanging over me for so long.

"Do you have any siblings?" Josh asked, his tone casual.

I tensed slightly at the question, but I forced myself to stay calm. "No," I said, shaking my head. "Just me." I had to be careful what I disclosed, in case he could start working out my identity.

Josh nodded, not pushing for more information. "I have a younger sister," he said, his voice softening. "She's a bit of a handful, but I wouldn't trade her for anything."

I could tell he really cared about her, and it made me wonder what it would be like to have someone like that in my life. Someone who cared about me, who would stick around no matter what.

"Is she as annoying as you?" I teased, surprising myself. I wasn't used to joking around with people, especially not people in authority.

He laughed, and the sound was light and genuine. "Oh, way more annoying. Trust me, if she were here, you'd probably be begging for me to come back."

I couldn't help but smile at that, a real smile this time. It felt strange, but also kind of nice.

For a moment, the room felt a little less sterile, a little less like the place where I was being kept against my will. Josh was easy to talk to, and I found myself slowly relaxing, letting my guard down just a little. It was dangerous, I knew that, but right now, in this small, quiet moment, it felt okay.

"So, Flopsy, huh?" Josh said, nodding toward the rabbit I was still holding. "I think it suits her."

I looked down at the plushie, its soft ears flopping over in a way that was kind of endearing. "Yeah, I think so too," I said.

"What does Flopsy do for fun?" he asked.

"Chewing carrots and sleeping, mostly." I felt childish for responding, but Josh didn't make me feel silly for it.

"Do you want to watch a movie or something?" he asked. "I'm not really supposed to let you stay up, but… I think we can bend the rules just this once."

I hesitated, feeling the familiar tug of paranoia. Was this a trick? A way to get me to let my guard down even more? But Josh's expression was open and honest, and for once, I wanted to believe that someone was being kind just because they wanted to be.

"Sure," I said, surprising even myself. "But only if it's something good."

Josh grinned, reaching for his phone. "Deal. How do you feel about animated movies?"

I shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, even though the idea of watching something light and fun actually sounded really nice. "They're okay, I guess."

He scrolled through his phone, then turned the screen toward me. "How about this one?" It was a classic Disney movie, one about a mermaid, that I'd heard of but never actually seen.

I nodded, and Josh quickly set up his phone so we could both see the screen.

As the opening credits rolled, I found myself leaning back against the pillows, the rabbit still clutched in my arms. Josh stayed beside me, watching the movie but also keeping an eye on me, making sure I was okay.

As the movie played, I started to feel my eyelids grow heavy. The day had been exhausting, emotionally and physically, and the warmth of the blankets and the soft glow of the screen made it hard to stay awake.

The movie had lulled me into a sense of security, making me forget, just for a little while, that I was in a hospital. Josh's presence felt more like that of a friend than a doctor, and for a moment, I almost let myself believe that things could be normal. But as the credits rolled and the movie came to an end, the reality of where I was settled back in.

Josh stretched, a contented smile on his face. "That was a good choice," he said, glancing at me. I nodded, feeling a little drowsy, the comfort of the moment making me want to stay wrapped up in this bubble we'd created.

But then Josh's expression shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked me over. The change was subtle, but I noticed it. He leaned in closer, his tone shifting from the casual warmth of before to something more serious. "I think it's time we put your nebulizer on," he said, his voice gentle but firm.

I frowned, the mention of the nebulizer pulling me out of the comfort I'd just started to find. "Do we have to?" I asked, my voice a little whiny.

Josh smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes this time. "Yes, we have to," he said, standing up and moving toward the equipment at the side of my bed. "I know it's not fun, but it's important to keep your lungs clear, especially at night."

As he reached for the nebulizer, my chest tightened. The familiar, overwhelming sense of panic began to claw its way up my throat. I tried to swallow it down, but the memory of the water splashing over my face, filling my nose and mouth, making it impossible to breathe, surged forward, unbidden and relentless.

I knew I should tell Josh, explain why the thought of the nebulizer terrified me. But every time I tried to form the words, they caught in my throat, tangled up with the shame and fear that I couldn't quite shake. Instead, what came out was a stubborn refusal, a petulant "I don't want to," that made me sound like a bratty kid.

"I know you don't, but it's important."

I watched him as he started setting things up, his movements precise and practiced. Something in me bristled at the way he was so quickly back in "doctor mode," like flipping a switch. It made me feel like all the warmth and friendliness from before had been an act, something to keep me calm until it was time for the real reason he was here—to treat me, to make sure I was doing what I was supposed to.

"Can't we skip it just this once?" I asked, testing the waters, seeing if I could get him to bend the rules like he had with the movie. "I feel fine."

"No, there's no skipping unfortunately." He said quite firmly.

"I don't want to do the nebulizer," I mumbled stubbornly, feeling the childishness of my words but not caring. I wanted to see if he would push back, if he would insist, or if he would let me have this one small victory.

Josh sighed softly, his expression a mix of patience and something else I couldn't quite place. "Lilla, I know it's not what you want to hear, but we really can't skip it. I wish we could do things differently, but this is important. I'm not doing this because I'm a mean doctor—I'm doing this because I care about you, and I want you to be okay."

I bit my lip, the frustration bubbling up again. I didn't like this, didn't like feeling like my choices didn't matter. But beneath that frustration, the fear was building, twisting my stomach into knots. I could already feel the cold plastic of the mask against my face, the damp air flooding my lungs, suffocating me like the water had in the past.

But how could I explain that to Josh? How could I tell him that every time they put the mask on me, it felt like I was drowning all over again? That I wasn't just being difficult, that I was scared—really, truly scared. The words were there, just at the edge of my mind, but every time I tried to grab hold of them, they slipped away, leaving me with nothing but anger and defiance.

"But what if I don't want it?" I challenged, pushing back against his calm demeanor.

Josh's face softened further, and he gently squeezed my shoulder. "Then I'd still have to ask you to do it, because it's my job to make sure you get better. But I'd be here with you the whole time, to make sure you're okay."

His words only made me feel more trapped, more like I was losing control. I wanted to scream, to tell him that I didn't need him to decide what was best for me, that I could do that on my own. But the look in his eyes made it impossible for me to lash out.

I swallowed hard, feeling the tears prick at the corners of my eyes. "Fine," I muttered, my voice barely audible. "Let's just get it over with."

Josh nodded, his expression full of understanding. He carefully placed the nebulizer mask over my face, his movements gentle, almost apologetic.

"You're doing great, Lilla," he said softly as he started the machine, the familiar hiss of the medication filling the room.

But I wasn't doing great. I was barely holding it together. Each breath felt like it was dragging me deeper underwater, like the nebulizer was pulling me back into that dark place where I couldn't breathe, couldn't escape. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the fear, trying to focus on the rhythmic sound of the machine instead of the memories clawing at the edges of my mind.

I felt Josh's hand on mine, warm and steady, and I clung to that small comfort, even as the panic continued to rise. I knew I couldn't keep this up forever, that eventually, I'd have to find a way to tell him, to make him understand. But right now, all I could do was survive, one breath at a time.

And as the medication worked its way into my lungs, I let myself lean into the comfort of his presence, even if it was as my doctor, because right now, it was all I had.

As the nebulizer finally sputtered to a stop, I let out a shaky breath, relieved that the ordeal was over. But the tension in my chest hadn't eased; if anything, it had only grown worse.

Josh carefully removed the mask from my face, his hand still warm and steady, but I could barely focus on him. My mind was racing, heart pounding in my chest as if I were still in the middle of that suffocating nightmare.

"You did really well, Lilla," Josh said softly, his voice encouraging. "Now let's just check your lungs, okay? I want to make sure the treatment worked."

He reached for his stethoscope, but the sight of it made my heart skip a beat. The thought of him getting close again, of anyone getting close, sent a jolt of fear through me. I flinched instinctively, pulling back before I could stop myself.

Josh paused, his hand hovering in the air as he looked at me with those same calm, understanding eyes. But I could see the concern behind them, the way he was trying to piece together what was going on in my head.

"It's okay," he murmured, his tone soft and soothing. "I'm just going to listen to your breathing, alright? Nothing else. I'll be gentle."

I wanted to believe him, wanted to let him help, but my body was betraying me, reacting as if I were still in danger. My hands were trembling, and I could feel the adrenaline coursing through me, my muscles coiled tight, ready to bolt or fight or anything but sit still.

Josh noticed my tension, his brow furrowing. "Sweetheart, it's okay," he repeated, his voice steady. "You're safe. I'm not going to hurt you."

But his words barely registered. All I could think about was how close he was, how vulnerable I felt, how every nerve in my body was screaming at me to get away, to protect myself. It didn't matter that this was Josh, that he had been kind to me just moments before. All I could feel was the overwhelming urge to escape.

"I'm fine," I blurted out, my voice high-pitched and shaky. "You don't need to check."

Josh didn't move, didn't try to press the stethoscope against my chest. Instead, he just looked at me, his expression a mix of patience and concern. "I know this is hard," he said quietly. "But I need to make sure your lungs are clear. It'll only take a minute, I promise."

I shook my head, the panic rising in my throat again. "I said I'm fine!" I snapped, my voice coming out harsher than I intended. I didn't mean to yell at him, but I couldn't control it. I felt like a cornered animal, and all I wanted was to get away, to be left alone.

Josh held up his hands, palms facing me, in a gesture of peace. "Okay, okay," he said softly. "I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to. We can take a break if you need one."

But I didn't need a break—I needed to escape, to get out of this room, away from the machines and the doctors and everything that reminded me that I wasn't in control.

I wanted to tell him to leave me alone, to stop talking to me like I was a scared little kid. But the words wouldn't come out, stuck in my throat like a lump I couldn't swallow. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold everything in, trying not to fall apart right in front of him.

But Josh was persistent. He didn't push, didn't force me to do anything, but he didn't leave either. "I know it's hard," he said softly. "But you're safe now, Lilla. I'm right here with you."

Josh seemed to realize that talking wasn't helping. He hesitated for a moment, then slowly lowered the stethoscope, placing it back around his neck.

Josh didn't say anything else. He just sat down in the chair beside me, his presence solid and reassuring, even though I still felt like I was on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall.

He must have sensed that I was teetering on the edge because he didn't press the issue. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and offered a small, reassuring smile. "We'll skip the exam for now. You've been through enough tonight."

His words were meant to comfort me, to give me a moment of peace, but they only made the knot in my stomach tighten. I knew I should be relieved—he was giving me space, letting me decide when I was ready—but all I could think about was how Carlisle would react when he found out I had refused to cooperate.

Carlisle was understanding and gentle, though also quite firm and authoritative. He had rules and boundaries, and I'd already pushed against them too many times. Last time I didn't cooperate, he injected me with something that meant I couldn't fight back. I knew that he did it to be kind to me, so that I wouldn't have to be awake and aware of what they were doing to me, but I still didn't like it. What if he saw this as just another instance of me being stubborn and difficult? What if he decided I wasn't worth the trouble anymore?

I couldn't bear the thought. Carlisle had been the first person in so long who made me feel safe, who treated me with respect even when I tested him. But what if this time was too much? What if he thought I was just a problem, too much of a hassle to deal with?

My mind started spiraling, imagining the worst. I pictured Carlisle walking into the room, seeing me curled up on the bed, refusing to cooperate, and deciding that he was done with me. That he wouldn't want to spend time with me anymore, that he'd hand me over to someone else, someone who didn't care as much.

Josh must have noticed the change in my expression because he leaned forward, concern etched on his face. "Lilla, what's going on in that head of yours?" he asked softly. "You look really worried."

I didn't know how to explain it, didn't know how to tell him that I was terrified Carlisle would abandon me. That I wasn't just being stubborn—I was scared, really scared—but I couldn't make the words come out. They were tangled up inside me, too messy to untangle.

"I'm fine," I muttered, my voice flat and unconvincing.

Josh didn't look convinced, but he didn't push. Instead, he reached out slowly, like he was trying not to spook me. "It's okay to be scared, you know," he said. "No one's going to be mad at you for that. Not me, or Carlisle."

"I'm not scared," I said quickly, even though my voice wavered. "I just… I don't want Dr Carlisle to think I'm causing trouble. I don't want him to stop… caring."

It felt strange to admit it, even to someone like Josh, who had been nothing but kind to me. But it was true—I didn't want to be a problem. I didn't want to push Carlisle away.

Josh looked at me for a long moment, like he was trying to figure out the right thing to say. Finally, he sighed softly, sitting back in his chair. "Lilla, Carlisle doesn't see you as a problem. He cares about you a lot. That's why he's here so much, why he keeps checking on you. He's not going to just give up on you because you're having a tough time."

I wanted to believe him, I really did. But the fear was still there, gnawing at the edges of my mind, whispering that I was too much, that I was pushing Carlisle away with every refusal, every act of defiance.

"But what if he does?" I whispered, my voice barely audible. "What if he gets tired of me being… like this?"

Josh's expression softened, and he leaned forward again, his gaze steady. "Lilla, I promise you, Carlisle isn't going to give up on you. He understands that you're going through a lot, and he's here to help you through it, not to judge you for it. And even if you have moments where you can't handle something, that doesn't make you difficult or stubborn—it just makes you human."

His words were like a lifeline, something to hold onto in the midst of the storm. But the fear was still there, lurking beneath the surface, reminding me of all the times people had given up on me before. I didn't want Carlisle to be the next one.

Josh reached out, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. "You're not alone in this, Lilla," he said softly. "We're both here for you. And Carlisle isn't going anywhere. He's just as committed to helping you as I am."

I nodded, even though I wasn't sure I believed it. But I didn't want to argue anymore, didn't want to make things worse by pushing Josh away too. So, I forced a small, shaky smile and tried to convince myself that maybe, just maybe, Josh was right. That maybe Carlisle wouldn't give up on me, no matter how scared or difficult I seemed.

"Okay," I whispered, my voice barely above a breath.

Josh gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze before letting go. "Get some rest, Lilla," he said gently. "And remember, it's okay to feel how you're feeling."

I nodded again, lying back down on the bed and pulling the blankets up to my chin. I closed my eyes, trying to calm my racing thoughts, but all I could do was hope that tomorrow, when Carlisle came back, he wouldn't look at me differently. That he wouldn't decide I was too much trouble to care about.

Because I didn't think I could handle losing him too.