"This is Ashley, Kacey, Lynn, Joan, Chrissy and Helen." Katelyn says, "we'll share about three rooms and you guys can choose out of the other four. Nova, our three rooms will be the ones downstairs, would you like to show the boys where they'll be sleeping?"
"Sure, come on guys." I say, linking arms with Oz, trying to get the message across loud and clear 'he's not available', even though he is. It makes me feel funny, the way girls always hit on him, he's my friend right now, but eventually we might become more. We reach the stairs and I take the first step and almost scream. The pain bursting up my leg is too much. I bite back the scream, everybody pushes past me with Oz leading, assuming I'm just having difficulty. I strain to say, "Oz, you show them. I can't - I - stairs - too - difficult." Oz runs back down the stairs, the other boys parting for him. He grabs my elbow and looks at me with concern.
"Nova, are you alright?" I try to nod but then lose it and shake my head. I sob, slipping down the wall I was leaning against until I'm sitting down. " Michael, stay with her, I need to show the rest if them the rooms. Is it alright if I go?" He asks me, I nod. Michael makes his way over to me as Oz makes to move upstairs with the rest of the guys. Michael kneels in front of me.
"Nova, what's wrong?" He says gently while carefully rolling up my trouser leg. I wince as he reaches the tighter bit around my gunshot wound. He lifts up the bandage.
"Ouch."
"What? Is it bad?" I sit up straight and crane my neck to look at the wound. I can't crane far enough, so rely on him to give me a description.
"It looks infected. I'm sorry Nova. This next part may sting. A lot." He pulls an antiseptic wipe out of his portable medi-case. He lightly dusts the surface of the wound and I don't feel any pain at all. Before I can tell him that it didn't feel so bad he cuts in, "That wasn't the bad bit. This is the bad bit..." He puts pressure on the wound, a lot of pressure. Blood and pus start leaking from it; I gag and lean away, afraid I might be sick. The pressure makes my leg burn with pain and a gut-wrenching scream bursts from my mouth,
"Stop. Stop it! Make it stop! Please, Make it stop. Please." The last part comes out as a sob. My head drops down to touch my chest; my tears collect in a puddle on my top; a dark fog obscures my view and I give in to the being, beckoning me into unconsciousness.

This time I wake up on a soft, feather mattress with a clean, fluffy duvet. My eyes adjust to the darkness that the room is doused in and remember where I am. I glance to my side to see Oz slumped in the chair beside my bed with his hand next to mine. Careful not to wake him, I move my hand so it sits lightly on top of his. He shifts in his seat and as he does so his hand slips off the bed and hits the wooden frame. He groans, opens his eyes and blinks a few times, I watch him get used to where he is and remember why he's here. When he looks at me I smile at him and he smiles back.
"How are you feeling?" He leans forward, resting his hands on my arm.
"I'm ok. But my leg stings a bit more than it used to." He nods.
"Yeah well they had to clean out the wound and before they thought the bullet had come out but it was still in there. So, they had to do a little operating. Don't worry. You still have your leg." He adds, trying to anticipate my worry. I shake my head to say that wasn't what I had wanted to ask.
"Did I lose much blood? Can I walk? Did you see? How does it look?"
"I don't know, you'd have to ask Michael or Aspen. Look, you'll be fine, just stuck in bed for a couple of days. I know you think you can't do it, but I'll find you a load of books to read, I'll stay here and talk to you and some of the other guys can talk to you too."
"Alright, but not Alex or Chris. Under any circumstances." I add noticing that he is about to protest.
"Ok, but why?"
"Chris is sexist beyond belief, you heard him this morning 'no girl could do that'. I bet he couldn't. And Alex. Well, Alex talks too much." Oz nods like he understands. He gives me a quick kiss on the cheek, stands up and leaves. I watch him go and can't help but feel a little drawn to him. When he leaves he closes the door behind him to give me a little privacy but not before I hear snippets of questions from both the boys and girls in the House. I try my hardest to sit up so I can blue easily survey the room that I'm in. The walls are a vaguely familiar shade of coral-beige and the curtains on the window are patterned with small squares and some larger squares. The bed sheets are plain except for three hearts grouped in the top right hand corner. It occurs to me that Oz must have chosen this room for me as its the room I slept in while he was here. This was my old room. I know exactly which floorboards creak if I'd ever wanted to sneak out. I know the uneasy squeak that the door makes when it opens. I know the cracks in the walls like the back of my hand. Without looking I trace the cracks on the wall next to the bed, the door wails as somebody enters and the floorboards groan under the person's weight.
"How are you feeling? Nova?" Michael asks while Aspen kneels by the bed to look at my leg. I reply with the same answer that I gave Oz. Aspen uncovers my leg from underneath the blanket and I freeze. There is a wad of thick bandages from around my calf leading up to my knee. The blood has already seeped through the dressing so much that it is glistening in the low light of the candle that they brought in with them. Aspen undresses my leg which creates a slow tearing sound as it peels off. Underneath the thick layer there is a large mix of wet and dry blood, pus and a hole, torn through my leg by a bullet. Aspen quickly starts dabbing at it with a wet cloth. Michael opens his medi-case and produces another large amount of bandage and hands it to Aspen. He sets it down firmly on the wound and I clench my teeth as the blinding pain comes again. Michael lifts my leg as Aspen starts to slowly wrap the wound up, starting from the wound going up to my knee, back down to my calf and then wrapping the wound about a hundred times before finally tucking the layer into another. My leg now feels overdressed and uncomfortable. As Aspen lays the duvet back over my leg he says,
"Now you need to rest and we'll be back to do that again tomorrow morning." They both leave swiftly and leave me alone with a low-burning candle and my thoughts.