Remembering my Daydreams

Tanya's eyes opened but all she could see was a white blur. The air smelled of chlorine, sterlisation and chemicals. A quiet roar of common speech, beeps, and shuffles rolled into her ears like a neverending wave. Hospital, Tanya thought to herself, it must be. The vision in her left eye cleared enough to see clear liquid sliding through a thin tube. At one end of this tube, a miniature knife was driven a little way into her skin. It was surrounded by a bit of solidified blood from a badly done job. She followed the remained of the tube up to the drip attached to her. A bag of morphine hung in a ray of sunlight like a merciful angel inside a small plastic bag.

She looked to the other side of the bed at the small cluster of machines monitoring her being. Knowing nothing of such things, the numbers, letters, and graphs meant little more than a foreign language. The rest of the room was empty and small, allowing for a doctor, a few nurses, and a chair for visitors. Besides the previously mentioned furniture, there was nothing else save a drape for Tanya to cover herself in her hospital bed.

Soon her Tanya's head began to ache weakly. She remedied this by laying back in the comfort of the hospital bed for even a brief moment, which it was. A splint of pain ran up through Tanya's leg and her eyes flickered down. It was a fraction of a second in which she caught a little black something upon her sterile white bedsheets. She excused this for nonsense. Other pains crawled into her being as she began to wake up and she began to believe that was she saw wasn't there at all.

Trent is sitting in the waiting room, looking at his guitar case with longing. He truly wishes to open it and bring music into this drabby, depressing place. Yes, it may not always be appropriate, but still...it's so quiet right now and nothing is going on...he should have brought a book to read.

He looks at his phone, annoyed at the short notification tone. His mom is texting...AGAIN. That woman is going to drive him insane if he doesn't go insane from this terribly silent room, first. Trent hates the silence.

It isn't long before he is notified that Tanya is awake...he readies to go in and see her, after a bit, but he knows he must wait to make sure she'll be comfortable with company. Tanya may not feel like talking, so waiting for the doctor's input will be the best option.

A tall man in a white coat came out to the waiting room. He looked... sharp, as if all his details were carved out of stone by an artist. This adjective stretched from the tips of his ear to his toes, even his nose was victim to the oddity and pointed outward from below his sharp, blue eyes. As unusual as he appeared he was kind enough to be consider an excellent partaker in bedside manner and his voice portrayed that perfectly. It was easily the colour of honey and the sound of morning birds in a deep, mellow growl. He was well remember by the other patron of this particular hospital and his voice wasn't the only reason why.

Some would whisper about his shadow moving around when he stood still for too long but most laughed that it was nothing more than a trick of light or medication. No matter what rumours circulated or which patient he had, we was always referred to as Dr Deedson.

"Is there a Mr Salis available?" called Dr Deedson, reviewing the name jotted on his notepad. A pair of round glasses sat at the beginning of his painfully pointed nose.
"A Trent Salis here to see a young girl named..." he flipped through a few pages, letting one of them fly dangerously close to his nozzle before settling on his prey. "Tanya Grey?"

As Doctor Deedson come out, Trent jumped up. The man was a bit intimidating to him, at first, but that was sort of hard-wired into him from all of teacher and parent issues when he was in school....yeaahh. Fun times.

"That's me!" Trent raises his hand, quietening his loud outburst far too late before the two words slipped out. Man, this doctor needs a facial. Or like a muscle relaxer. Or something. Pills could help with that, right?

"Sup?" He asks, pulling up his guitar's case and placing it on his back and over his shoulder via the case's strap. He probably shouldn't have brought it, but he couldn't help it. He loves this thing and he wouldn't go a day without it.