"Well, you're awake now," said the nurse, smiling. "Adalyn Lynnet, was it?"
I nodded.
"And you're eight years old, right?"
I nodded again. For some reason my head was ringing from that slight movement and the side of my face was stinging and throbbing. I gingerly reached up to touch it; only to see a set of bandages covering my arms. "Why—"
"Let's give you another checkup to make sure everything's ok," the nurse quickly interrupted.
I stared at her blankly. From what I could tell, my head was wrapped thickly in bandages and I had been in an accident of some sort. That was when it hit me. There had been a fire. But where? Was it my house? Or was it the neighbor's house? My memory was a bit foggy.
"Where's Mum? Where's Dad?" I cried out desperately, struggling to get up and desperate to go find them and ask them if they were ok.
The nurse gave me a strange look. I stopped and froze. The look she gave me was strange. It was sympathy... And pity?
"Where's Mum? Where's Dad?" I repeated. This time, fear was slowly creeping into my heart.
The nurse didn't reply. She just stood there and gave me blank smiles.
"Your... Mum and Dad... are currently... away," she said after a long moment of careful consideration.
That was when all those terrible stories about people getting into fatal accidents started flooding into my head.
"They aren't... dead... are they?"
That look again. The blank empty smile with sympathetic eyes. It's like she was looking at an abandoned puppy on the streets, that was the sort of look she gave.
I just broke down there and then. At first it was quiet little sniffles but it escalated to big wailing sobs. I could hear the nurse quietly leaving and softly muttering a single line:
"I'll go get the doctor and leave you alone."
How could they? How could my parents abandon me? Did I do anything wrong for God to punish me like this? Yes, that's it! That must be it! The reason this all had happened must have been because I wasn't good enough. If only I had been a bit more nicer to Mum and Dad. If only I had not acted so spoiled. Would God have taken pity on me and my parents could still be here today?
Suddenly a cute childish voice interrupted my self blame.
"Are you ok?"
I looked up.
There beside my hospital bed was the most adorable little boy I've ever seen.
He looked around my age— 7 or 8 years old— with scattered silver hair like the moonlight on the prettiest nights, paired along with his fair translucent skin and beautiful emerald eyes that seem to suck you in. A little button nose, rosy cheeks and thin lips tinged with pink.
I stared at him, stunned by his dazzling presence. The only thought in my head then was that he definitely put lots of girls to shame with his fairytale-like looks.
But 'he' just simply smiled, and repeated what he just said in his melodic voice:
"Are you ok?"