Do You Know Indigo?

Chapter Seventeen

The sound of knocking woke me. I flexed my hand, stiff from clenching the chocolate bar wrapper. My body was sticky from sleeping in my clothes, clothes I was more than eager to get out of. Another sharp knock came at the door.

"Come in," I croaked, rolling off my bed without a trace of elegance. My mother entered, appearing far from amiable.

Perfect.

"Christine Grace Evans please tell me you didn't sleep in those clothes!" She stood with her hands on her hips, unimpressed I presumed. After considering falling back to sleep to spite her I decided it wouldn't have been a sensible thing to do. Mum pursed her lips and glared at me.

"I've had a bit of a rough night," I confessed, rubbing my eyes. I needed to wake up. A cup of icy water over the head would have done the trick but I wasn't going to offer Mum such an opportunity.

"And you're surprised? You slept in your clothes for goodness sake, what did you expect?" She cluthed the door handle. "Now your appointment is at ten so get your skinny little butt in that shower." She pointed a stern finger in the general direction of the bathroom. I obeyed. "And leave your clothes outside the door; I think they'll need washing." I wondered if the sarcasm had really been necessary.

Once in the bathroom I peeled off my clothes and chucked them into the hall. I could hear faint footsteps walking away and the mumbles of an irritated woman. If I had a penny for every time I'd ever aggravated my mother in my life I would be rich. In the shower I clumsily washed under cool sprays. The jets of water were refreshing after my restless night.

"Man I look awful," I moaned, eyeing myself in the bathroom mirror after my shower. "Still you could be a lot worse off Evans," I admitted. I wrapped myself in a towel and opened the bathroom door.On my way out I knocked foolishly into Ross.

"Sorry," I squeaked.

"Nope it was my fault, I wasn't looking where I was going. Are you feeling any better?" he mumbled, inspecting everything but me.

"Yeah I guess so." I diverted my eyes from his face and with my pink cheeks in tow I scurried to my room.

There was really no need to dress up for a session with Dr. Collins. But when checking my appearance in the mirror I noticed how pale I was. Dr. Collins wouldn't hesitate to enquire as to why I looked so sickly. Oh how I couldn't wait.

We took the bus to the hospital, though I slept for the entirety of it. I hadn't realised quite how tired I was.

A sharp nudge in my ribs woke me from my slumber.

"Come on Chris. This is our stop." I looked up at my mum warily, as if I wasn't quite sure I knew who she was. She was never usually so keen to accompany me. With another impatient glower I got to my feet.

The hospital towered over us in all its white magnificence. For a place as gloomy as it was it looked more like a hotel spa. Cars were parked in their hundreds across the concrete car park in orderly lines.

Mum and I walked briskly, heads down, into the hospital entrance. The receptionist smiled at us cheerfully as we entered. I forced a small smile in return. Mum and I carried on down the spotless corridors until we came to the door I dreaded.

Dr. Collins's office was like that of the rest of the hospital, lathered in disinfectant. The furniture was unadventurous but expensive. Books dominated the space; most appearing new and untouched where as a select few had dog-eared corners and wrinkled spines.

Dr. Collins sat behind her desk and gestured at the seat awaiting me. Mum hadn't been permitted to join us after having had a long lecture from Dr. Collins about recurring interference. So there we sat; just the two of us.