Cold Secrets

Chapter 2

The last things I remembered was the surname 'Thompson' who had given me the freedom I yearned for all these years, the look on Ms. Crawford's fiery green eyes, and the way my heart pounded when I felt the wind caressing me as I plunged into darkness. Dark was the place that I saw and where I stood, there was nothing but the cold wind coming from below. I didn't feel anything either, the pain that should have been eating me from the impact was absent. Even the chilly feeling. As moments past, I didn't move but stood in the same spot, and my patient's thinning down to a toothpick. Wondering if there was going to be a skull like train with smoke belching out of it to fetch me. Or was this really it? An eternity of just standing without feeling anything, but loneliness and probably insanity afterwards. It was odd though, that I was still wearing my prep uniform; white dress shirt, dark scarlet blazer, grey sweater vest and a skirt that was above my knees, combat boots, and to top it all off, a striped scarlet and gold necktie. Gryffindor colors, nice. If only I had a wand, I would simply say, 'limos,' and there would be light.

As I was thinking that, two almond shaped holes appeared from the midst, blinding me from the light as it held the same blurry sceneries. I walked closer towards them, my feet echoed on the invisible pavement, and I'm beginning to feel the familiarity of pain. The holes opened and closed, blinking like eyes, and to my dismay-it was not a train stop to who-knows-where. I'm alive, and I don't know if I should be screaming like a chimpanzee right now.

I woke up feeling my body sunk deeper in bed, covered by white sheets and the warmth that came with it. I tried moving my arms, but the right one was immobilized by a cast and my head was throbbing like a stampede was going on in there. Trying to squint my eyes to see where I (really) ended up, I saw the curtains shielding my face to what I assumed were people swarming from behind. Talking in hushed tones, I tried eavesdropping but with my pounding head, it was like my heart just moved up. Smelling that familiar smell, the spirit of ammonia, it dawned on me that I was trapped in the hospital wing. With two strangers accompanying me, a nurse and Thompson-who was until now, nameless.

My eyes then roamed around, arched windows were opened as sunlight rushed in and filled the room, a wooden table sat near the corner that held medical appliances, and on top of that were hanging cabinets filled with medicine bottles of all sorts, shape, and sizes. Rows of bed were stationed on two corners of the room, and I was occupying the first one near the door. Catching a pair of eyes, a petite looking nurse with ginger colored hair that was styled into a bun stared at me creepily, with a chart on hand, I would assume were my medical records. Hating the cringing feeling, the moment I averted my eyes I caught Thompson's chestnut brown ones.

It was only for a mere second though, when he quickly averted his and gazed out the window with a rather troubled look. He stood there with a bag slung to his shoulder, he wore the same uniform as mine, only he wore pants and his striped scarlet and gold necktie was slightly loose. His dark chocolate brown hair was unkempt that it looked like his hand went through it dozens of times already and pair that up with that six foot two lean body of his-he reminded me of my grandfather when he was young, and I probably stared for a bit too long for that thought to came in.

It sickened me thinking that.

"Vitals are all normal Ms. Crawford." The surname itself made my ears perked, as footsteps came closer to my bedside I saw an old man with his beard shaped like that of pear with a pair of spectacles sitting on his nose while Ms. Crawford was as rigid as before. Her hair seemed to be 'glued' back into place, but she would look ravishing if she dyed her hair blue rather than that dull greying hair of hers. And I would do the pleasure doing that, in the near future. Then unexpectedly, someone followed them from behind, a boy, probably a year older than me, stood beside Ms. Crawford giving me an insolent blue eyed stare. His raven hair was neatly combed and was quite the opposite of Thompson. Whoever he was, he was already giving me that aura of a know-at-all, and it irked the creature in me.