They never told me anything. All through those unhappy hours of agonised waiting and watching, of whispered secrets and sneaky sideways glances to where I was, sitting quietly on the hard, cold chair, hungry for news, they never spoke a word to me.
By evening, I was extremely bored. Nothing had happened, apart from nurses scurrying about like ants and shooting urgent bullet words at my mother and father. Mum looked strained, her already pale face white as a blank canvas. Dad seemed as lost and forlorn as a lonely child, led astray from the path of normal life.
Hours later, the tedious hum of machines were still going and the continuous click, click, click of heels on on the pristine, polished floor of the hospital drummed into mind. My eyelids grew heavy. My tongue lolled in my mouth as I surrendered myself to the welcome embrace of sleep.