The Whispers of The Sprite (The Whispers series #1) (3 page)

‘
I am sorry for this lack of introduction. So far I have been completely ignored,’ I say loudly, not
recognising
my own high-pitched tone. The man has black hair and seems to be completely lost in his thoughts because he isn't responding.

I can only assume that he is rude, pretending he hasn’t heard me. I have no idea what he is doing here; he can't belong to the hospital staff because he isn't wearing any uniform. He seems to be isolated from present reality. His dark hair is tangled and untidy. I notice his broad shoulders and gaze at him intensely for a several seconds trying to guess if he is taller than six foot.

‘
Excuse me,’ I press, speaking louder than before. ‘Don’t you think it’s a bit rude not to even look at me?’

He shifts his perfectly shaped body to the side and turns around, searching for my voice. I feel like an idiot losing my temper, flushing. The curtain of long black hair is covering his forehead. He narrows his prominent blue eyes and raises his left eyebrow with surprise. He has the most amazing eyes that I have ever seen; large, azure, like crystal-blue water in the sea. I am jolted when my mother suddenly enters, talking loudly, almost shouting at the doctor who is right behind her, looking irritated. She folds her arms and stands by my bed.

‘
Ania, I wanted to wait to tell you, but Dr Roberts here insisted that you should know what happened,’ says Mum, crinkling her eyebrows.

Dr Roberts gives her a stiff nod and shifts uncomfortably to the side.
‘
Well, Miss
Petrova
, you were stabbed a few days ago.’

All my memories flood back to the cold night on the beach. I stare at my mother, trying to recall the man that I saw that evening. I hurt my foot. I stopped, trying to search for my mobile, but then everything happened so fast. This man was right next to me …

‘
Stabbed?’ I repeat, gasping.

‘
Unfortunately, yes,’ adds Dr Roberts.

‘
A runner found you in the early hours of the morning and she called an ambulance. You were very lucky – a few more hours and you wouldn’t be here with us,’ interrupts Mum.

‘
Yes, thank you,
Mrs
Petrova
. You were given strong painkillers. We have been able to patch your stomach together, but you will have to stay here for a couple of weeks to recover. The worst is over now, but you will be in a lot of pain,’ continues Dr Roberts.

After a few seconds, I stop trying to recall anything else from the fateful evening because my mind is blank and I feel a cold plunging sensation in my stomach.

‘
The police want to see you,’ announces a nurse facing me. Her green eyes flash with anxiety.

‘
Yes, Ania, try to tell them as much as you remember,’ says Mum sharply.

I exhale, realising that I stopped breathing for a moment while taking in all this information.

‘
I need to see other patients, Miss
Petrova
, but I will be back shortly to check on you,’ says Dr Roberts, smiling, and he leaves the room along with the nurse.

After a few seconds of hesitation, Mother sits on the chair next to my bed. Then I realise that they have completely distracted me from the stranger by the window.

‘
Mum, who is ...?’ I begin, but when I turn to my left, the space by the window is empty. It seems that the man has vanished, but how is this even possible? Apart from the doctor and nurse no one else left my room.

‘
Yes darling?’

‘
Never mind,’ I tell her, keeping my eyes at the empty space for a while. I am not sure if what I had just seen was a hallucination, but the man was definitely standing there before they all barged back into my room. I begin to wonder if I also might have a fever that could affect the other parts of my brain. The intensifying feeling of anxiety spreads throughout my veins.

‘
Ania, I won't shout at you right now, but can you imagine what I was going through?’

I knew that sooner or later my mother would start this awkward conversation. I sigh and look at her. I was hoping that she might just let me rest, but she is going to tell me off.

‘
Well ... I am sorry. It's not as if I planned to get stabbed, Mum,’ I say, not able to let go of the sarcasm. ‘I am really tired, Mum. Just let me rest and we can talk about this later.’

‘
I know that you have to rest – I am a nurse for heaven's sake – but I don't think that you should stay in Swansea,’ she says, folding her arms together. The mad glare starts dancing in her eyes. ‘I will speak to Brighton University to see if they can transfer you.’
   

‘
No!’ I shout and my heart starts racing. ‘I am not moving!’

I’m shaking, ready to have a long argument, but she looks worried. The pain in my forehead is sharp and makes me feel dizzy.

‘
Calm down, you are not supposed to stress.’
 

‘
Then don't try to change my life. I am a grown woman,’ I add through gritted teeth. She shifts her expression, realising that this conversation is making me agitated.

‘I can take care of myself,’ I say.
  

‘
You are right, we can talk about this later,’ she agrees.

Fortunately for me, the nurse comes in and my mother instantly stops talking, as she hates arguing in front of other people. I am hoping that Mum will leave soon so I can get some rest and finally release this overwhelming tension. My body needs a long sleep and when the nurse underlines that visiting hours are over, I want to hug her. Mum isn't pleased, but she has to go back to London today. She has a twelve-hour shift tomorrow ahead of her, but she assures me that when she sorts out her annual leave she will be back shortly. She leaves the room, talking to herself in furious Russian.

I know that I might have scared her almost to death, but I am still alive. I am still trying to remember the man that attacked me. He couldn't have done it for money, as I didn't even have any cash on me. Perhaps he just decided to stab the first person that came along, for fun.
 
I can't remember his face.

I am sure that I was hallucinating earlier about the odd individual in my room. He looked too perfect. I only saw him for a few minutes, but I am certain that my mind is playing tricks on me. I didn't even ask how long I was unconscious for. I am hoping that I won't have any more delusions. I can take a few weeks in hospital, but mental health problems are a different issue altogether. Before I start thinking about the enigmatic man, I close my eyes and drift into a dream.

The tearing pain in my stomach wakes me up late in the night. The clock on the wall is showing a few minutes past 2 am.
 
The lower part of my body feels as though someone is tearing apart every inch of my skin, the excruciating sharp pulsing pain is penetrating my stomach. It's unbearable and I need to call for a nurse. I try to move a little but I am only making it worse. My room is separate, probably far from other wards, and I am alone. In the darkness, I try to find the switch to call for help, but I am not sure where it is or which button to press. I look around the room and I gasp in fear because I realise that I am not alone.

I see a tall figure by the window and my heart is in my throat. The searing pain slowly blinds me. My subconscious is telling me to scream; the shock mutes my words. I start sweating and shivering feverishly. I am in agony but my half-open eyes are gazing at the tall figure in the corner. I tell myself that he is only in my imagination and in a few seconds, the room will be empty. I close my eyes and start counting, ignoring the pain. In a moment I am going to be alone again.

Then I open my eyes. The man is standing just beside me. I part my lips, ready to scream, but my voice dies in my throat. In the darkness, the odd man looks real and if I had all my strength, I could reach out my hand and touch him. He places his palm on my forehead. His touch is warm and
hypnotising
. The pain slowly drifts out of my body and after a few seconds, I am dreaming about his thrilling azure eyes.

‘
Breakfast,’ says someone, touching me gently.

I open my eyes, realising that it’s bright, early morning. I had slept for almost twenty-four hours straight.
‘
Thank you.’

The nurse gives me a light smile. She comes back after a moment with more painkillers.
‘
How are we feeling today?’ she asks, making sure that I start eating.

‘
Better,’ I respond between mouthfuls.

After breakfast, I have another visit from Dr Roberts who looks surprised at seeing me with more energy. Then I remember the dream, which felt so real that I begin to wonder if I was actually dreaming at all. Delusions are pretty irrational and I wouldn't admit to anyone that I saw someone in my room in the middle of the night.

My bizarre dream is still on my mind. My mother doesn't mention the subject of university when she eats lunch with me; she knows that I shouldn’t stress. Instead, we talk about her work and Gosia, who already knows what happened. I had decided to talk to her that morning, reassuring her that I am fine despite the eight-inch wound across my stomach.

Before I fall asleep again, I ask for some sleeping tablets. I am afraid to wake up in the middle of the night with a new set of hallucinations. The nurse looks at me with concern, but she agrees after consulting with Dr Roberts.
 
Luckily, my sleep isn't distracted during the night and when I wake up in the morning I genuinely feel better. The painkillers that I was given are successfully masking the pain around my stomach. I am still fragile, but I am hoping that I won’t stay in the hospital for much longer.

3

The loud knock stirs me out of my daydreams. Amy and Carl walk in from the hall to see me. My mood changes suddenly and I find myself smiling, looking at Carl. Amy is dressed in tight jeans and her blonde curls are nicely styled.

‘
Ania, I am so sorry,’ she says and leans over, hugging me gently as if I am made of glass.

I clear my throat, shifting on the bed.
‘
Don't be ridiculous, Amy, what are you saying sorry for?’ I ask, staring at her as a light blush colours her face.

‘
We shouldn’t have left you alone that night,’ says Carl, looking uncomfortable. His eyes quickly wander down to his feet.
 

‘
It’s not your fault,’ I say quickly, convincing him that I am right. Amy's expression softens. As usual she pasted too much foundation onto her skin, making her look older than she is.

‘Amy, what’s up with you?’ I ask.

‘
Well, Carl is right. It is our fault that you were hurt,’ she continues, nodding.

I inhale, trying to stay calm.
‘
Don’t be silly. I can’t get stressed, so if you both came here to blame yourselves, I want you guys to leave now,’ I reply in an annoyed tone and narrow my eyes. They both exchange nervous looks, but I ignore it and shift the subject quickly. ‘Have you met the other housemate yet?’

‘
Well, it’s another bloke called Michael,’ answers Amy, folding her arms. ‘I have to tell you something, Ania. Two journalists came to the house today and they wanted to interview us.’

‘
Yes, and we are not sure if that would be okay with you?’ Carl asks quietly.

I know that Amy is dying to go ahead with the interview as her face lightened with excitement and her eyes twinkled as she told me about the journalists' visit. I don't mind if they talk to the press; by now everyone probably already knows what happened at the beach anyway.
 

‘
I don’t mind at all. I hope I won’t be here for much longer. I am already missing our first week at university.’

‘
Oh Ania, I would love them to interview me,’ blurts Amy, squirming with excitement.

Carl smiles.

They talk more about what was happening at university while I was lying here. It’s good to have them; at least I got some company. They leave after an hour and promise to visit me again.

It’s Thursday morning and by the end of the week, I will officially be behind at university as I failed to attend any lectures. I was looking forward to enjoying my first Fresher’s week – instead I am stuck in a hospital bed and I can’t even go outside.

During the night I can't sleep. I keep thinking about the almost-fatal evening on the beach, moreover the pulsing pain spreading around my stomach. Hours later, after tossing and turning I manage to drift into dreams for a while, but the sharp pains wake me up again. This time the pain is unbearable and a hot and cold flush of sweat is assaulting my body. I reach for the switch to call a nurse, but I freeze, sensing something shift further away in the darkness. I am in too much pain to react. My heart starts pounding faster while my mind is contemplating if I am still dreaming.

Then he appears next to me, clearly showing his full self in the dim light, which reflects in his blue eyes. I stare at him, unable to speak or breathe. His eyes are so beautiful: electrifying, sapphire, the most beautiful eyes that I have ever seen. He puts his hand on my forehead and soon I lose touch between reality and illusion.

The next morning Mum wakes me up. It’s after midday and once again I feel well-rested. I
analyse
the dream, worrying that I actually might be crazy. I try to distract myself by eating everything Mum brought. The incredible azure eyes are haunting me and Mum is talking the whole time. She is glad that I am feeling better. I try to pay attention but I can't concentrate. I think about talking to the doctor about my illusions, but I change my mind, in case he might make me stay in the hospital for longer than I already have to.
 
My mother leaves an hour later after making sure I am well-fed.

The rest of my day passes quickly, while I do everything in my power not to think about the eyes from my dream. Two policemen enter my room, looking at each other uncomfortably. Their questions are standard and I tell them exactly what I saw that night. It appears, however, that I don't remember much at all about what happened. They are polite and formal; the older, grey-haired policeman looks unimpressed with my statement. They assure me that they will be in contact if they find the person that attacked me. The visit leaves me feeling very anxious and hopeless, as they clearly haven't a clue what exactly happened that night.

The days pass, and after a week Dr Roberts informs me that I will be released shortly. My every move is restricted because of the stitches. My absurd delusions have not come back which calms me down slightly. At least I don't have to worry about being mentally unstable.

A box of chocolate from the university lifts my bad mood and after a long argument with Mum, I persuade her that I am staying in Swansea. She looks like she won't give up and reveals that she has arranged an appointment with someone from Brighton, but I switch off when she starts talking about it. She can't force me to move and at the end of the day, I am an adult. Mum leaves for London disappointed, failing to achieve what she came here for.
 

After the morning visit, Dr Roberts announces that I can be discharged on Friday. With my date set I feel better. The doctor's orders are clear that I have to stay in my room and let the wound heal naturally.

In the meantime, I try to enjoy reading and the company of Carl and Amy, but the time is dragging on. I have already missed Fresher’s week and a bunch of lectures and I am eager to get sucked into university life.

Finally on Friday evening, after a series of tests and check-ups, my time in Singleton Hospital comes to an end. The instructions from Dr Roberts are clear: any kind of sports are out of the question. My mother is with me, grasping everything he says. Mum arrived this morning to help me get home. Her bus back home isn't leaving until 11 o'clock and it's only 9. I am counting the hours until I will be alone again. I do love her, but I just need to finally taste how it is to live by myself.
 
She will be leaving soon so I keep quiet and allow her to talk, nodding.

‘
Everything done?’ she asks, looking around the room to check that I haven't forgotten anything.

‘
Yes, I am ready to go.’

‘
Great. We need to fill out the paperwork at reception,’ she replies, pressing her lips together.

I exhale, but I don't want to spoil her mood today, so I don't comment and do as I am told. Standing in the door and looking back at my room, I am glad that I am alive.

When we step into a busy corridor, I start to think that the world around me has gone crazy. I see people that are more beautiful than anyone else, although they do mask themselves well in the drab surroundings. I try not to stare, admiring the tall, handsome men that pass me on the way.

My excitement dissolves all unnecessary thoughts about being out of this prison in a short while. We go straight to the taxi while Mum starts to lecture me about my daily routine. She is so overprotective, but I nod, acknowledging whatever she has to say. I keep quiet, as she will leave shortly and my life will soon go back to normal.

The house hasn't changed at all; it's just a bit untidier.

‘
Right, you need to go to bed,’ she barks, shooting furtive glances as she steps into my room.

‘
Yes, Mum, I know, but I feel –’ I murmur.

‘
I don’t care. It’s bad enough that I won’t be here to look after you,’ she snarls, looking irritated. ‘C’mon – quickly.’

I obey and let her lecture me a bit more; I need to gain her trust again. Finally, she leaves after an hour to catch her bus. Relief spreads though my veins as I hear the door close downstairs. I am alone at last, and after looking out the window and confirming that Mum got to the taxi, I exhale with liberation.

I begin to check my emails; my mail box is full. Gosia is still nagging me about the fact that I was stabbed while out on my first day in Swansea, but I ignore her email, focusing on more important ones. I haven’t chosen any modules yet and that’s priority at the moment.

I subconsciously know that Mum is on her way to London, so the temptation to leave the house is growing. Despite feeling restless, my wound starts to hurt. I take a few painkillers and get to sleep, as I know that tomorrow I will be busy with paperwork in the university, so I abandon the idea of going there today.

The prescribed painkillers are strong, so I don’t wake up until next morning, feeling strangely numb – but I can no longer stay in bed as my dream of becoming a journalist will be a non-starter if I don’t get to university today. Before I leave the house, I unpack my new clothes that I purchased in London, style my hair and put on a bit of makeup. The soaring sensation flows through my stomach when I think about being so close to death. Breakfast is out of the question today; I am not hungry at all. I pick up my bag and leave the room, wondering if the academic registry office will understand that I wasn't able to
enrol
at the right time.

The rain is pouring from the sky when I step out from the porch; the weather is definitely not on my side. While I am outside, I spot Amy and I curse. I try to think of an excuse as to why I am leaving the house. She knows as well as I do that I should be resting.

‘
Hey! I thought you weren't supposed to be out until tomorrow?’ she says, approaching me smiling. She is wearing orange trousers, black nail varnish and holding a bright umbrella.

I should be more cheerful; Mum has left and I'm still alive.
‘
Yes, I couldn’t stand to stay in bed any longer. Mum left yesterday, thank God,’ I say, rolling my eyes.

‘
So where are you going? Your mum was pretty clear that you should stay in bed until you are feeling better,’ she says, folding her arms together. I sense seriousness in her tone.

‘
Let's just say that Mum is a bit overprotective,’ I clarify, giving her a reassuring nod.

Amy offers to go with me and mentions a recent party that she went to. When we start walking through the rain and cross the road, I notice two individuals on the other side of the street. I gasp with fear as I recognise the tall, handsome stranger. My breathing speeds up while my palms begin to sweat.
 
I panic because I don’t know if it’s just delusion or if I am really seeing him. I am going to risk it and decide to ask Amy about them.

‘
Amy,’ I say, interrupting her monologue about the party. ‘Do you know those two guys?’ I don't want to point at them to attract their attention.

‘
What guys?’ she asks, surprised.

‘
Two freaks at twelve o 'clock,’ I whisper.