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‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎
Elle Van Doren's

POINT ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ OF ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ VIEW ‎ ‎
‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎
‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Because his lungs had weakened dramatically, John was placed on respirator - a side effect of heavy medications on the body, according to the research.  That entire scene is playing out in front of my eyes; I did not sleep that night because I was afraid the call about his status would be awful news.  For the past five nights, I have not slept like a person.  The sensation was unusual, as if I were trapped in that moment when Elliot appeared, carrying John into the corridor, and took away my bliss.  I had no idea anything bad had occurred to him!

   ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Spencer's words resound in my thoughts, and if I see tears in your eyes because of him one more time, I will murder him.  Damn profiler.  He did not need to know everything - Elliot and I were discreet since we kept our business and personal lives separate.  But he noted everything, including certain facts he stated in a handful of talks.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ I stayed awake for five nights, staring at the lessons I needed to learn as soon as possible - but when Cassie went to sleep, the light went out and the room was dark.  I was left alone with my thoughts, and at the time I despised both my thoughts and my brain.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ To divert my attention, I slid the old laptop into my lap and began browsing for things that piqued my interest.  Doctor Spencer Reid.  There were numerous stories about him on the internet, largely regarding his job and the cases where he proved to be a hero, as well as his team.  However, there was also breaking news that a retired FBI agent had been arrested on allegations of murdering four people.  The case is still under investigation, and the trial is not until February of next year, so I am sure he will discover evidence that someone else did it before then.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Meanwhile, time seemed to stand still as I spent the previous two hours reading information about him and these murders in order to be at least a little more aware about the issue.  Because of the patients nearby and the guards who would quickly pass on such details to someone in a higher position, our chat could not be censored at all.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Everything would be thrown away.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Spencer's freedom would be forfeited.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ My investigation was disrupted when my roommate across the room throwed and smacked me in the head with a pillow.  Ouch. "You have been typing on that keyboard all night, I have not closed my eyes!" she moans as I hand her the pillow back.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I could not sleep, I am worried about John's condition, man, I have been clinging to that old man like it is my dearest," I explain, attempting to stretch out of this awkward position.  I have not slept at all, and I have to work till 11 p.m.  When I look at the coffee maker that was left unplugged by last night's storm, I think about how muddy and wet everything is outdoors.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I am going to need a lot of coffee," Cassie said.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Count on me as well," I say, immediately entering the bathroom.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "It is your turn, Cass, to make the coffee."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Fuck you Elle," I can hear her screaming because I forced her to go to the store to replenish her coffee supplies.  ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎I was on my way to Rosecliff before I realized it; I was too early because it was only 11 a.m. and my shift did not begin until after two p.m.  Lauren's phone call had nothing to do with my wish list; it was about John and what to do with him.  When she told me that, I was shocked.  How can someone else make decisions about another person's life? As I climbed the slope like some otherworldly beast, a handful of cars got in my way.  My cardigan was up to my knees, but it seemed as if all the cold was making its way to me. I enjoyed fall, but in instances like this, I wish it was bright and dry!  Not to mention how slick the asphalt is and how many idiots have splashed me all over so far.  Sons of a bitch.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ As I swiped my card at the gate to unlock the entry, I noticed familiar figures approaching - guards and coworkers from other wings.  Although brief greetings were made, I never socialized with them.  When a few drops of rain grew into a torrent, I ran carefully towards the front door, dried my soles on the ancient carpet at the entrance, and dashed for the hospital ward.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ John was sharing a room with another woman who attempted suicide.  There have been relatively few suicide attempts in recent years, and all protections were in place - this was simply a mistake by the staff members.  Chad Camerons will almost certainly convene a meeting to chastise those responsible.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ I saw Lauren exiting one of the rooms and called her several times because she was walking in the opposite direction as I was.  "I did not expect you to come right away," she admitted.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "What the hell is the decision about what will happen to him?!" I demanded angrily of the thirty-year-old black-haired woman who had nothing to do with anything.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Come with me, that is where we are planning the reunion," she said, motioning toward Elliot's office.  Great.  My body feels chilled, and I try to draw my sleeve over my wrists to cover my stained arm.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ He attacked me two days ago in the women's locker room after hearing I asked to exchange shifts with Lauren.  The marks on my wrists were getting increasingly obvious between a lot of harsh things that I regretted speaking.  This is the first time I have seen him in 48 hours; sometimes I regret that my father never taught me how to defend myself properly.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The Camerons, Elliot, and two other doctors who had been here for decades were inside. They greeted us with stares, and one in particular tormented me.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "John is already dead; the machines are forcing him to breathe, and his heartbeat is weak. His grandchildren and his children are not interested in him. His granddaughter came to say goodbye to him on the day she was."  One of the doctors wastes no time and begins the story right away.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "As long as he has a heartbeat, he is alive," I interrupted him.  "I am not going to take part in decisions like this, does not that make us murderers?!" Lauren squeezes my hand, and all eyes are on me.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "We are wasting our resources on a man who will most likely die in a few days," Elliot continued, pausing for a moment.  "The state has never tolerated our high costs."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "So the solution is to turn off the appliances in order to save a few bucks?" I asked him angrily and fearfully because this was becoming too personal.  Camerons cleared his throat, giving me a mechanical expression; he was angry.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I am sorry, I-I just can not do it," I weep, on the point of tears, as I exit the room and proceed to room number two.  The machines were the only thing that could be heard inside the room, God - how did I manage to bond with the patient so quickly?  This is the second time that someone from my section will die.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ I stand in front of the door and look only through that small glass while rubbing my eyes roughly.  In my thoughts, I say goodbye to him - there will be no second chance because my opinion has been trampled against someone else's.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "What the hell is wrong with you?! What can't you do?! What's wrong, he's my patient and I don't know why they called you to this meeting! Stupid Lauren," I don't even bother to turn around, I know he's there. I also know he came out at the same time as me, but he was waiting for me to finish my sorrow.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Fucking look at me while I am talking," my already swollen wrists felt the familiar grip reappear around them.  It is thrilling to watch the bruises get darker and darker.  He drew me in closer, but I refused to look at him.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Stupid Elle, she got attached to an old man and now she thinks the world is against her... who are you going to get attached to next... that murderer, what was his name?" I remain nothing and turn my gaze to the wall behind him.  Only one thought crosses my mind: how will this look on camera?

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ When I stare up at him in pain, his grip tightens until he hits my limit.  "I will destroy your career if you publicly oppose my decisions, did you hear me?" I move my hands to lessen the grasp, but it seemed to irritate him even more.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "We will see who will destroy whom, Prescott." My voice was hoarse when I eventually spoke to him.  "You are fucking lucky my hands are around your wrists and not your neck, or you would be buried with him" he spat.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎
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‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎
Third person's

POINT  ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ OF  ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ VIEW

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎
‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎At three o'clock, John died. Elle spent her working hours multitasking only to avoid thinking about what they decided.  It was almost lunchtime, however the patients spent more time in the common area on weekends - the staff was divided into those who cared here and those who prepared the meal plates.  She found out the news when she noticed the guards shutting off the music in honor of the deceased.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Elle did not cry this time since she lacked the necessary strength.  She tried to do her work, and it was all she could think about today, even avoiding Spencer.  She was embarrassed since she had spent hours studying his name, and she knew a lot about him in an unfavorable way.  Spencer was aware of her agitation and the space she maintained between them.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ He always sat in the corner, where he had the finest view of the entire room while remaining concealed from most of the guards - he did not have a strategy, but he did not enjoy people staring at him all the time.  He surreptitiously saw a 170 cm tall brunette walking around the room and conversing with specific patients. He admired her beautiful smile, which she gave to others even when she did not feel like it.  Elliot Prescott was also in the room, talking to one of the guards who acted as the greatest male gossips.  Elliot was also staring at him, which he noticed.  He was also staring at Elle, which made Spencer's blood boil.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The sound of a book dropping to the floor disturbed his thoughts.  Elle swiftly picked up the book and returned it to the woman who was reading Russian literature, who had just dropped the third edition of War and Peace. From his perspective, the harmless move seemed very...satisfying.  The women wore incredibly short uniforms, and Elle leaned in to tickle Spencer's dirty mind.  He saw a section of the skin he had not seen before - and he did not think he would ever get the chance again.  In this scenario, his eidetic memory came in handy.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Hey! Ex fed, stop staring at her ass, you pervert," Elliot yelled across the room, making her flinch.  Elle gave Spencer an innocent look.  She had no such plans.  Spencer had no ill will, of course; he was only admiring the spectacle... with complete respect

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Elle changed her hemline to be a little lower as she looked for an occupation - to make everything appear normal.  And how he did not raise a fuss.  Of course, it was not in Elliot's best interests not to make a scene; in fact, he needed one to prove himself.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Make them longer uniforms, it is October and they are forced to wear short skirts," Spencer joked.  He stood at her side as a faint smile developed on her face.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Elle, go help set the table," Elliot says as he advances slowly towards Spencer.  Her body language indicated caution, a red flag that no one recognized, except him.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "No, the deal is that I am here," she says gradually.  "Change of plan, you are going to the cafeteria," he says again, but this time it is just between the two of them.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I am not going, I am set up here," she finally says as she pulls away from him to safety, sits across from Spencer, and accepts the tickets.  Elliot's attitude indicated that he had long since lost his patience; he appeared crazier than some of the patients here, which was preposterous.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Spencer observed Elle's habit of rolling up her sleeves over her wrists and hiding her hands whenever she had the opportunity.  A dreadful awful wolf interrupted their small calm just as she was ready to deal the cards.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "You can go to lunch break first, Elle," he says, till she registers him even a little bit.  Spencer was already in over his head when he said, "Did you hear me?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "No," she says quickly.
‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Go"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I won't! I am not hungry," she said again.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I said you were going to take a break, what is so difficult about it?!" snarled Elliot, and that was the last drop that began to overflow the glass.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Do you know what no means?!" Spencer gently asked, "It means no." His cool approach will catch Elliot off guard, and he will finally catch the bully in the act.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Who asked you anything?!" Elliot snapped.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I was just asking you if you understood what it means when a girl says no," Spencer said again, his voice cool as he recognized Elle's discomfort in this circumstance.  He is deeply sorry about this.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I told my girlfriend to take a break," Elliot spat and Spencer told him  "She is not your girlfriend; you are simply delusional."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "And how would you know? Have you checked the terrain, are you ready to process her because she is your next victim, killer?"  Elliot's statements set Elle off.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Stop it," she says, and Elliot suddenly turns his back on them and heads back to his previous location.  Elle and Spencer are in complete silence, which is interrupted by her sneeze, which echoes around the room.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ She desperately covers her nose with her hands to prevent bacteria from spreading.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The injuries on her wrists then come to light, making Spencer feel something he has not felt in a long time.   ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Anger.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Spencer jumped mechanically from his chair, rapidly approaching Elliot's back.  "Just fucking turn around, I do not want to hit you while your back is turned," he said gently as he pushed him.  He avoids making any unexpected movements because he will still be on the lookout for them.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "What the fuck do you want?" he questioned, a sickly smile on his face.  " From you? To mature and become a man without bullying the female gender!" Spencer fists up, but Elliot does the same.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "What did that bitch say to you?" he questioned, raising his voice so Elle could hear.  "Your mom is a bitch," Spencer remarked to his hall.  And then there is Elliot, whose hand lands on Spencer's stomach as he writhes in agony.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I thought you were a man, but..." Spencer slapped him back, but he hit him precisely beneath the ribs, prompting him to duck.  As Elle begins to fear due to the fight, a security guard approaches them.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I am a man unlike you, I have been locking up thugs like you for years," he says fiercely, before striking him again in the same location and not letting him get up.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "You lost your title as a man the moment you hurt her," Elle shivered again at her name.  She is now attempting to get the patients out of here, while she is assisted by a guard who goes to seek assistance.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "She is a fucking slut, do you really want to be punished for her and have some pointless proof that I hurt her?"  Elliot inquired, then reached out and punched Spencer in the head.  It hurt him a lot, but not so much that he gave up; his rage was eliminating any pain, and he wanted to put him through all he was doing to Elle.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Is she a slut, or did she simply refuse to give it to you because you are miserable and not even a man?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Spencer was hit again, this time by the following one he had foreseen.  After that, he began to reciprocate.  "I counted 5 bruises on one arm, and I did not even get to check the other, so excuse me - I have to even it out on you," he said. Elliot gets struck in the nose, which is completely fractured, then he gets hit in the stomach, and he collapses on the floor.  Spencer is also in a faze of collapsing while Elliot drags him along.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I swear to you, if you touch her again, I will kill you. If you fucking look at her with your filthy bastard eyes. You are done, man, you are dead."  Spencer got in his face while his hands were around his neck.  Allowing him to barely take a breath.  The vein on his forehead was obvious, and it revealed how much he was resisting the want to kill him right while he was there.  Elle was the first to enter the room again. Her one "no" put an end to everything.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "You see, I understand what no means. So I will not murder you - but believe I am incapable of doing so," he rose up from him, wiping his nose with his sleeve.  Elle begins to cry at the sight; she did not feel bad for Elliot; in fact, she was relieved that someone had finally intervened.  So she decided to fake a slap on her cheek.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ She studied the amount of blood and their deformed faces, then heard the door open - Spencer would be punished if she did not turn this around.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ As Spencer approached her, she slapped herself across the face with all her strength.  The guards stormed into the room, looking at the three with surprise.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Stay away from her," one of the guards instructed Spencer.  As one from the side approaches Elliot, two of them lift him up.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "He h-hit me," she wept.  "Elliot fucking hit me because I did not want to go on my lunch break a-and Spencer was h-here to calm him down," she said as she paused to catch her breath.  "But Elliott did not stop"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Spencer just looked at her, delighted - perhaps a little too much.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Spencer was led to a hospital room, while Elliot was led to his ward.  Elle stood outside Spencer's room door.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "You should not be bandaging the wounds of someone you are involved in all of this with," Cassie said, but Elle refused to give up.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I need to talk to him, please," Elle sounded desperate, but that was the only way she got a positive answer.  "Go," her pal advised.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Spencer had his back turned and was looking out the window while Elle opened the door to the room faster and better.  He was sitting properly, albeit he fumbled in place, playing clumsily with his legs.  Elle cleansed her hands, jolting him out of his reverie.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Hi," she whispered softly, almost as if she did not want to be too loud when they were alone in the room.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Hi," he replied in the same tone.  Despite the fact that he had a cut on his lip, he smiled.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "You look bad," she chuckles as she cleans his wounds and wipes the hardened blood off his face with medicinal hydrogen and cloth.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "You should see the other guy," Spencer jokingly said.  When he saw her real smile again after that joke, his heart leaped with joy.  "You broke his nose," she says.  Spencer was pleased.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I should have gone for a neck"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Elle went over his injuries softly, letting him know when she was about to burn him. Fortunately, none of the cuts were severe; they were all superficial, and no stitches were required.  Spencer kept staring at her, distracting her from her task.  "Stop looking at me like that, I can not see where I am going," she warns, giggling.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Spencer takes a deep breath and apologizes.  His hands were in his lap, swelled from the punches, and the goo was already piling up.  Elle did not realize what was going on around them until his hands were in the air and she was wiping the blood from his face.  She took a step back to discard the already tainted gauze and replace it. His big hands were pulling her closer to him.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ His head was tucked on her chest as his grasp on her waist tightened with each passing second.  She hugged him back, putting her head on his shoulder and sliding her left hand over his back.  They remained in that position for a few seconds, until she broke the embrace in fear of being approached - she had heard incorrectly, the door to this room did not open.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Being caught in such a close embrace would not look good on anyone, but they both cherished the embrace more than they dared.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Let me see this cut on the lip," she says, looking up at her.  His lower lip was swelled and painfully purple, and the incision had been cleaned for good measure.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "We should really talk about that..." he says quietly, and she nods, aware that it is serious and necessary.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I will send you a letter, we should not hang out so much right now, all three of us will go to Danielle's for talks, as some kind of therapy - probably he and I will both be suspended for a couple of days," she described the procedure to him as he simply listened quietly.  He creates a painful grimace as he rubs his tongue over his lower lip.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "It is not the first time I have been beaten, but this damn thing sucks," Spencer grumbled.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Elle walks closer to his face, without thinking about the dangers, until she feels his breath on her lips.  She puts her lips to his, and with a hesitant movement, she glides her lightly and uncertainly over his - she quickly ceases the kiss attempt when she realizes it would be unpleasant for him.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Spencer is surprised by her action.  A devil and an angel are disputing in his head about what he should do.  She is much younger than him, and she is in a vulnerable spot.  He is as well.He did not want her to be hurt by another kiss or any sort of intimacy.  He wanted to kiss her, to absorb all of her sorrow and keep it to himself.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ His response is simply that this time he initiates a kiss - a soft, pure, and emotional kiss.  She responds by wrapping her arms around his neck and bringing him as close to her as she can.  Their mutual lip caress lasts longer than planned, until his tongue touches hers.  The two unite without any mutual fight.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"We'll be alright"