-Nurse Tracey P.O.V.-
My heels click against the tile with each step, echoing down the silent and empty hospital corridor. I glance out the occasional window I pass by on the way to my destination. My heart goes out to patient I'm delivering to. The kid lost his memories, that's the equivalent of losing part of yourself. When he woke up he must've been scared. Thinking about how I just barged in, I feel guilty. I certainly wasn't rude, but I gave him no time to recover. Perhaps I should take a gentler approach to make him more comfortable. I know I'm not supposed to get too close to patients during work hours but this case is special. During my self evaluation, I arrived in front of Finn's temporary room. When I crack open the door, there is no noise from the Tv, so I assume he's either sleeping or reading. Peeking around the door, I see him curled up on the bench staring out the window. The room is silent, but it's more of a thoughtful silence than an uncomfortable one. I walk into the room expecting him to turn around at my entry, however he doesn't turn around. When the door shuts with a loud bang, he doesn't move. Maybe I should wake him from his stupor by tapping his shoulder? I decide against it and opt to just call out to him. "You wanted your medical records?" I say in a loud, questioning voice.
-Finn's P.O.V.-
Hey, I know that voice. I perk up and my weariness promptly disappears. I turn around and sure enough, Nurse Tracey is standing behind me holding a folder filled to the brim in what I can only assume are my medical papers. My boredom instantly turns to elation. I'm eager to accept any description of what I was like before the crash but I don't want to seem rude, so I restrain myself from jumping up and snatching the papers from her hand like a ravenous dog. "Hello Miss Tracy" I say, unfurling myself from the huddled position I was in earlier. Excitement is literally eating away at me and I want to ask her for the papers and just send her out of my room, but of course I know I can't do that. "Thank you for bringing my records." I say after a moment. Apparently this simple 'thank you' was her idea of a conversation starter, because she starts asking me questions about how I'm doing and how I've felt since I first woke up this morning. This being the absolute opposite of what I wanted, I mentally groan and nod along to her general questions (hoping to end this pitiful excuse for a conversation as soon as possible). "Finn, are you ok?" Ms. Tracy asks with a concerned expression. Crap, she probably noticed by now I haven't been paying attention. Maybe I can play it off? "Yeah just a bit tired." I tell her. It actually works because soon after I say that, she apologizes and swiftly leaves my room, leaving the folder on the nightstand. Not thinking much of it, I stand up and wheel my IV drip towards the bed. Throwing myself onto the bed, I sweep my legs up, make myself comfortable, and grab the folder resting on the nightstand. Looking at the inside cover, I am greeted with a picture of myself. In the picture, I'm frowning (that's a given) and I believe I'm wearing a... a school uniform? I flip to the Identification page and scan across it. My name's Finley Morrigan, and I'm 16. Seriously, 16!? I thought I was older than that. Not that old, but at least and adult. I'm still in high school... Oh god, High school. I may not remember much but I do know for a fact that I hate school. Honestly, who doesn't? Finished wallowing in despair, I flip to the next page and start reading through my medical life over the last sixteen years. My eyes turn into slits the more I read. I started off as a healthy kid, then kept getting scratches which eventually led to getting bruised, which ended up being broken bones. What was I, a man made of paper?! Was my hobby falling out of trees? I slump back into the bed with an 'umph', resting the folder on my chest. What kind of things did I do on an average day to get so battered? Am I prone to disaster, because getting hurt this much is not natural. I close my eyes to try and give my brain a break. Maybe it's because of my injury or maybe it's the difficult day I had, either way I'm exhausted. Cracking my eyes open for a split second I subconsciously put the folder on the nightstand. Apparently my mentality in a stressful situation is not fight or flight, apparently it's hibernate. Hey, you won't see me complaining. And with that I drift into an uninterrupted slumber.