Ms Phillips pushes dishevelled strands of hair from her face and frowns at the girls from school. The girls hesitate in the doorway until Tayla’s mum nudges them forward. Jennypha and Tayla visit later that week. I recoil from the scene and am out of the room faster than I can blink. Nausea rises inside me as I choke back a scream. No one wants you.” As he leans away, he traces his finger slowly across her cheek. Now, alone in the room, he leans over the bed and whispers in the ear of the lifeless girl. Frank didn’t know, not the whole story anyway. This only made Ms Phillips cling to his Ralph Lauren shirt and sob. Last time Frank was in the room, he suggested if there is no change in condition over the next few days, perhaps the life support should be switched off. This is me if I don’t move or make a sound, I don’t exist.

If they don’t make eye contact, he doesn’t exist. People look past me like they do the homeless man in his grubby clothes resting in a closed shop doorway. I’m not actually invisible, but I may as well be. I’m torn between screaming to get another adult in here and staying quiet so he doesn’t sense me in the room. The display continues to reflect the slow pulsing of the girl’s heartbeat. I want to leave, but my limbs won’t move.įrank places his hand on the machine by the bed as if the action can stop the beeping. His face wrinkles into a sneer at the still girl, an expression he reserves for when no one watches. Cheap cologne overpowers the disinfectant odour, tickling my nose and making me want to sneeze. I leave her alone with her inconsolable grief.Ī shudder racks my body as I drift back into the room. I’ve never really belonged anywhere, but Will needs me and the beeping machines in this room are irritating. I cannot loiter in this curtained space either. I want to remind her she has other responsibilities, but I’m distracted by Will calling my name. The landlord will only be understanding for so long. Her mother weeps and crumbles another damp tissue in her fist, before returning to absently scrunching the clean white sheets in her free hand. Squeeze my hand if you’re there.” The girl’s hand doesn’t move. I know it’s still a couple of months away, but we’ll invite all your friends and have a cake. Can you hear me, Lucy? If you wake, I promise we’ll do something special for your seventeenth birthday. Sometimes she talks about the weather, or the broken coffee machine in the hallway. Sitting alone by the bed, the awkward brown chair squeaks when she adjusts her position. Ms Phillips holds her daughter’s limp hand carefully so not to dislodge the tubes trailing from the pale skin. She nods and he glances at his watch, already making his way to the door. He assures her the girl lying motionless on the narrow hospital bed can hear every word she says. If I WakeI hover unnoticed as the doctor places his hand on Ms Phillips’ stooped shoulder and suggests she talk to her daughter.

If I Wake by Nikki Moyes