16

I greet the night shift nurses. They’ve seen me practically daily since Vi was admitted. The head nurse, Mrs. Hales, a plump blond with rosy cheeks, smiles at me and then frowns. “Dahlia, honey. You look pale. Have you forgotten to eat again?” “I’m fine. How’s Violet?” “Worry about yourself first.” She rummages through the desk and then produces a protein bar. “Eat this before you faint.” “Thanks.” I accept the bar sheepishly because she’s right. I’ve been surviving on the tuna sandwich I had for lunch yesterday. Violet shares a room with a young man who has dark olive skin and thick eyebrows. His name is Mario, and he had an accident shortly after Violet was attacked. They were both in the ICU for a bit, and now, they still share a space because the hospital couldn’t move either of them to single rooms due to a lack of capacity. I don’t mind since they have a curtain separating them, so their privacy is respected when the nurses tend to them. Mario, however, doesn’t get any visitors.