Dawn on the ward.

There is screaming outside, a chorus of horror on a symphony of sirens.  The sunlight filters in through polyester blinds and rests in a striped formation across the girl’s face. A face so motionless that, at a glance, it could be mistaken for marble.

She isn’t dead yet, but she will be. 

Foggy grey bloodshot eyes flicker from left to right, and her irises widen slightly as she watches the mayhem unfold on the streets below. Her short stumpy eyelashes flutter upon baby mouse pink eyelids, as she exhales in a small huff of breath causing a slight disturbance in the silvery dust sprinkled with light that drifts hazily around her, like the stars or satellites orbiting her planet.

Her skeletal hands are gently gripping the blue polyester blinds, with a slight amount of pressure that takes infinite amounts of effort. Her nails blend in with the blinds, a kind of foggy porcelain lilac-blue.

It is half-past two on a Sunday morning, when her saviour hurriedly barrels into the room.

Gloria was the kindest of the cavalry of nurses on patrol at the hospital, always smiling that big white glistening smile.  She was roughly the same size  as a large wardrobe, and had flawlessly smooth skin that reminded you of coffee after one spoon of milk.

She says something to the dead girl, but it gets lost somewhere in the two meters between them.  The dust quivers and shakes.

She tries again, wringing her hands nervously. 

“-need to get going Ramona, come on darling. Isn’t it terrible out there?  Come, we must hurry and get out of the city as fast as we can.”

The famous smile falters, a glitch in the illusion of normalcy.  

She holds out a coat and a fluffy brown hat shaped like a bear.

“Get some shoes on, there’s a good girl. It’s lucky you didn’t leave, most of the other patients-,” she paused, and frowned towards the window, before motioning slightly desperately towards the girl in an attempt to speed her up.   

 “Come on gal.”

Ramona had moved to sit on the bed; she was struggling with her left shoe. These shoes didn't belong to her, but had been given to her by the hospital. They complimented the weary looking nighty, and plastic identification bracelet. You should always aim to be coordinated and chic on your deathbed. 

Gloria helped her with the big puffy coat which, when Ramona stands, extends to her knees.  She straightens the brown hat so that it faces forward, and receives a small smile in return that doesn't quite manage to reach the storm clouds in the young girls eyes.

This is the moment of serenity before their supernova. Their eyes transmitted a mutual awareness of the reality surrounding them, the knowledge that once they leave this room they’ll become another screaming note in the chaotic music outside.

But the thing about reality is that it happens regardless of whether or not you’re ready to face it.

And it is infinitely better to face it on your own terms.

With that in mind, Ramona let Gloria place a comforting arm around her shoulders, and together they hurried out into the hallway.