Don't Fall Asleep at the Helm

"Guys. I think I finally figured out what I find so attractive about Darren Criss," after a moment of silence I continued, "It's his neck. He just has a very nice long, lean neck. His hair too. You cant forget about the hair. And... His eyes, and talent, his-"

"Okay, Belle, this is getting weird. Off the computer and get ready for your interview." Harlow said from her room.

"Interview? You didn't tell me anything about an interview. Where? When? What!? I thought this was for Tilly." I got out of the chair and practically ran towards Harlow's room where she was getting ready for her own job. Harlow never told us what she does for a living. We did ask her a few time, but then she'd always get so upset, so Tilly and I decided it was best if we just let it go. We both accepted the fact that our best friend could be a prostitute.

"The interview is for both of you. Part time at the hospital where the older people are. Something about them having to stay in this unit because they're on a waiting list to get into an old folks home, I think. I don't remember. The directions are on the counter. Tills is getting ready now."

"A retirement home? Oh, My God, you know how I feel about old people! They're creepy and delusional and the old men always try to feel the nurses up."

"Sybelle," Harlow warned.

"Frig. Fine."

Two and a half hours later, Tilly and I found ourselves in the food court of the hospital, munching on chips and pop. We both didn't feel too well about the interviews and didn't feel like talking about anything else so, sitting in silence, we watched people pass us by.

"Crap..." Tilly said. She wiped her hands on her dress pants and looked at her phone screen.

"Davies?" I asked. Nodding her head, I shook mine and told her not to answer it. Telling Davies that we both totally flunked the interviews for the third time in a row would defiantly not make a happy Harlow. But the thing is, we already have jobs! I'm at a local cafe that I've been at for five years. People know me and give good tips. I don't want to leave. Harlow believes working at a cafe isn't a real job. I'd love to see her running around with hot cups of coffee on a Tuesday morning rather than filling out paper work behind a desk. And Tilly works at successful, local clothing and water pipe shop. Go figure. Need I say more about that job? Yet, Harlow always sets us up with all of these interviews at 'good paying and real jobs' as she says.

"Momma Bear is going to kill us, Sy. I mean, she's going to shoot us in the head, revive us, then kill us again but slowly with our toothbrushes!"

I shrugged my shoulders, not denying the fact what-so-ever. Throwing out our trash and slowly heading for the exit, Tilly and I discussed how we should break it down to Harlow how we are comfortable with the jobs we're in.

The sound of a gun going off ripped through my ears as if I was right next to a fireworks display, listening to it go off, with no protection. The echo of the ear-splitting BANG carried on for a good minute. I did feel the impact. It hurt a whole lot. It felt like getting my baby toe stubbed over twenty times. Pegged with pain my should gave, the inertia of the bullet threw my body under. I found my self staring at the ceiling... wondering who the fuck would want to shoot me and thinking that the last thing I'd see is the ceiling to the hospital. That was a depressing thought.

I closed my eyes as a sudden feeling of exhausted rolled over me like an ocean wave. I felt my shirt being soaked with what I assumed was blood. I really hoped it was my own and not Tilly's. I couldn't hear anything which was comforting. I honestly didn't want to hear the screams of distress, more gun's being fired, and the pain of others. I pictured myself in a huge ocean somewhere in the Caribbean with a nice tan, water so clear you could see through it, and a warm breeze. I didn't use my ability very often, almost never actually because, well, I didn't know how to use or control it. Hell, I was still trying to figure out what it was... I think something about reality warping.

Using it now seemed like a good idea. I was going to die anyway so I may as well use it to die somewhere peaceful even though I'm not actually in the ocean.

It was soothing.



I slowly lifted my heavy eyelids and as the strong smell of anti-bacterial cleaner filled my nose. My mouth was dry and I smacked my lips a few times. I was laying down, in a bed it seemed, and the room was bright. Light from the window reflecting off the white walls, making me want to close my eyes again. I felt like I had slept for years, but I was still tired. I heard the beeping of a machine and slowly turned my head towards the source of the noise. The muscles in my neck were stiff and sore. I saw Tilly sitting in a chair by the window, sleeping it appeared.

I tried ,very slowly, moving my legs towards the edge of the bed. Like my neck, my muscles and tendons felt so inflexible that I thought I was paralyzed. Inhaling evenly, I sat up expecting to feel dizzy but nothing came. I took this as a very good sign and touched the floor with the tip of my toes and finally flatfooted. When I took the first step, that's when I felt unsteady and huge physical discomfort. With an idea of hesitation in mind I wondered what the hell I was doing. I do remember getting shot, I didn't remember going unconscious. I also realized that I was not in a hospital. Everything was too high-tech and shiny. Plus, the huge window that outlooked the fucking sky was a pretty big giveaway.

I left the room and Tilly behind me as curiosity wouldn't let me go. I was never the adventurous type, if I felt like something was a bad idea then I wouldn't do it, but for some odd reason in this spaceship I felt an odd feeling of security. There wasn't much to see. Just a whole bunch of rooms like mine and a crap load of medical technology. Maybe it was because I was in the hospital wing.

"Sybelle Analeah Grey! What do you think you're doing out of bed?"

I looked behind me, frightened out of my wits, and came into eye contact with Harlow. I furrowed my eye brows, confused as to why she was using that tone with me. It was different then her usual pissed off motherly tone, she sounded more like a drill Sargent. I was also puzzled by her outfit that I had to crack a smile.

"What are you wearing? There are such things as spandex onesies?"

"I'm in my uniform, idiot."

Well, that was surprising."Why would you need a uniform...?" I asked slowly with narrowed eyes, not exactly liking where this conversation was going.

"I work here." Harlow stated before making a hand gesture to follow her and walked in the opposite direction of myself. I pursed my lips and quickly followed. Davies lead me to a small room and pointed to my favourite satchel that was sitting on what looked like a metal bed. "I was able to stop by the house and get you a change of clothes. Unfortunately, you cant have a shower for the next few days because of your wound. Change quickly."

Just like that she slammed the door and left me alone. I went towards my satchel and pulled out the clothes Davies had given me to change into which I did very quickly. Although this hospital gown I was in was actually a lot more comfortable then the ones they use in actual hospitals, it was still not so comfortable. It took me less then a minutes to throw on my clothes. Davies made me nervous when she said to change quickly.

I stepped out of the room and pointed at the clothes I was wearing."Don't get me wrong, I really liked the outfit you put together... but do I look like I should be in the army?"

All Davies did was stare at me pokerfaced then abruptly turned on her heel and walked away. I took this as a sign of following her. "Hey, where's Till? We kinda just left-"

"I got Natasha to get her."

"Who?"

"You'll find out soon enough." She stated without looking at me. I noticed the people who passed her by would stop suddenly, go ridged, stand straight, and salut her. I licked my bottom lip nervously.

I wanted to be back in the Caribbean with the warm breeze and pretty fish.