Saving Viola

I sat up in my bed, ignoring the pain as I pulled at my IV again. Was Fletcher still here? No. I sank back into my pillows, feeling hopeless.
Suddenly, the door swung open, perhaps Fletcher was here, maybe he'd just been getting coffee? I sat up, running my hands through my hair and wincing as I pulled at my dressing.
It was my dad.
I gave a gasp and and moved to the side of the bed that was furthest away from him.
"What's the matter Viola?" He asked, his voice loaded with false concern..
"You're sober," I stated, ignoring the previous question, it didn't matter to him how I felt.
"Of course silly!" He chuckled.
Why was he doing this?
Who was watching?

Fletcher's P.O.V.
I sat in the cafe a few streets away from the hospital, coffee in my shaking hand. I desperately tried to calm myself, suppress the flashbacks, push down the bile rising in my throat, find excuses for Viola, reasons even. There were none.