Nick >>
He was going to be sick.
Tim hadn't moved from his spot in the waiting room of St. Mungo's intensive care unit in the last...it had to be an hour. Because---no, well, he couldn't really tell time at the moment. Adamina had collapsed right after dinner, and that was...when was that? Why didn't he have a watch? Why---why, why, that was all that was running through Tim's head, and his hands pressed harder into his face, elbows digging into his thighs. She had been fine, her fever had even gone down yesterday, and today they were joking and laughing and all of a sudden she was just---
The man didn't know what he'd do if she didn't get better, Tim didn't know how to live without Adamina, was the honest truth. All he could think about was how she'd really trusted that she was okay, that she didn't feel that horrible and in his gut he had known that she wasn't as sick as everyone had believed...the healers, the healers said her symptoms didn't sound like the virus that had been going around, but they had to take their precautions.
Fucking---he'd called Nick's house, mostly because Tim had left his journal at home (could you blame him?) and then he had never trusted an owl, so. His mum had always had a phone in their home to blend in, so he knew how to use it, but he'd talked to Madeleine, so he felt horrible that she had to relay the news, but what was he going to do? He had to tell Adamina's brother, it all just--it was all just too upsetting to really figure out, and he let out a shaky breath, ears listening intently at the nurses' whispers behind the counter.
(Read comments)
Post a comment in response:
scribbld is part of the horse.13 network
Design by Jimmy B.
Logo created by 
hitsuzen.
Scribbld System Status
