I swear to god, the sun is heating up. Hotter and hotter, it must be getting closer. I go to sleep in my own sweat and I wake up in my own sweat. The world is changing, but you stay the same. You keep me sane in this heat. You keep me alive, for the world knows I would've melted.


2. puzzle pieces

Hey guys! I'm updating now because I'm moving out of my apartment tomorrow and I'm not sure if I will be able to do my Thursday update! So here you go! I know it's a little slow, but it's good, so so so good. Every good story needs the patience of its reader. morgan x



It's May. I was ready for the summer to begin. Winter was terrible in London. Car accidents, suicides, anything and everything happened. I thought for sure the world was ending, but somehow the majority of the country pulled through it. 

According to BBC, other parts of the world had almost the same identical winter as us. Sure, that normally wouldn't phase me until I found out that it was snowing in Egypt and breaking thermometers in Antarctica. 

People blame global warming, but is there even proof of global warming? Well yeah, the north is becoming warmer, but wouldn't that also mean Egypt would be warm just like it normally is and not below temperatures? 

It was only 2022, and I could already taste the end of the world approaching. 


I quickly pulled myself from my thoughts as I was greeted by Rebecca. She's the nurse here in the London Bridge Hospital. The place I always come, every Sunday. 

"Hi," I say back poorly and she catches my, well I guess, confusion.

"What's wrong, Sweetie? Your mum is doing good today."

"Really?" I ask more hopeful. My mum has Alzheimer's which is another thing I don't understand. My mum is young, how could she have such an elderly disease. You would think the advance in technology from when I was born till now would be greater. 

"Yes, she's doing quite good."

"Great," I press the elevator button. "See you around."

"Ella," she stops and lowers her voice. "Your mum, she was talking about someone. A Jacob Bradley? Do you know the name?" 

"That's my dad, but surely you would know that?" What the fuck is going on.

"Oh," she steps back. "Of course! So silly of me, I must've forgotten."

I disguise a fake smile and get into the elevator, when the doors close, I want to scream. Rebecca has the signs already. The same signs my mum had. The world around me was becoming ridiculous, unbelievable, and it was all happening to quickly. 


When I reached the thirteenth floor, there was silence. All you heard were the humming of breathing machines which kept you alive, or the gently beeping to alarm a nurse that an IV bag needs replacing. I have memorized all the sounds, and I know what every sound means. 

I move across the white floors slowing, taking the same path I had for years. When I reached my mum's room she was awake and smiling, she was nearly glowing.

"Mum?" I almost cried out but told myself that this could all be a dream and within seconds she would think I'm another nurse to prick her with needles. Not her daughter. 

"Ella," she cooed and finally did cry out. She hasn't said my name like that in eight years. 

I rushed to her side and placed my arms around her. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," she reassured me. She obviously has no idea why she is here in the first place. "How are you, My Darling?" 

"Good, the weather has finally gotten better!" 

"Oh, I wish I could experience it!" She closed her eyes. "The nice warm wind, the sound of seagulls at the beach." She stops then and her smile fades. When her eyes open she looks at me in shock. "Who are you?" She seemed panicked, but I knew the drill.

I went over to her IV bag and moved it around slightly. "Just making sure your bag is fresh," I tell her. "Anything else, Ma'am?"

"Who are all of you? Where am I? I never agreed to this! Jacob! Where is he? He told me he would be here!" She looks at me with piercing eyes. "What are you doing? Get out of here you slum! Get out! Get out!" 

I run around her bed.

"Ella," it was Eleanor, the Mother Theresa on floor thirteen. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," I tell her as I reach down to grab the syringe. I've done it several times. Placed the needle in her thigh. It calms her, relaxes her. 

Then silence. I stop and look at her again, her face has relaxed and she looks from the window to me. 

"Ella," she smiles. "Why are you playing with that thing?" She points to the syringe. "You'll hurt yourself."  

I drop it and decide to take a seat beside her instead. I needed to ask before she went back to that other world. A world of forgetfulness. 

"Mum, you were talking about Daddy."

"You're father? Oh, the bastard."

"You said that he would be here."

Her eyes opened a little wider. "I'm not sure what you're talking about, Darling. You and I both know that your father was murdered in Kensington Gardens years ago. Right at the foot of Peter Pan himself! Oh, I'm sure the children are now terrified of that garden!" She begins to laugh at the thought. 

She had some type of humor. "Mum, what did Daddy do? What type of work?"

"The government, of course! He was a Minister of human welfare. He was a good man, your father. It was a shame he was killed so harshly."

"Do you know of any friends Daddy had? Co-workers?"

"Why are you so curious, Darling?" 

"Uh, school project," I lie. I dropped out of school at ten, given to a foster family at eleven. Raised by strangers until now. 

"Well, your father had many friends but he had a very close friend. He came over for dinners and parties, I can't believe you don't remember him. He even had a son about your age as well."

"What's his name, Mum?"

"Geoff," she smiles. "Geoff Payne. Such a nice man...," she looks down at her hands and quickly looks back up at me. "Who are you? What are you doing here?! I don't know you! Get out!" She screams and screams until Eleanor comes in and plants the syringe into my mum's thigh. 

She quiets quickly before falling asleep. "She's having a good day," Eleanor tells me.

"I know," I smile. "It is a good day." 

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