untitled.

I am waiting in a room. The atmosphere is uncomfortable. I am not the only one. A women is on the phone complaining about how long she has been waiting. One looks ridiculously relaxed : She is filing her nails and flicking through a glossy magazine. The last girl is Indian and no more than 15. She hugs her knees and the fear is apparent merely by her body language. She is alone. I wonder if anyone knows. Her face is blank and expressionless. I am fascinated by her. I study her features, she is pretty. She has slim wrists and I envy her long, dark hair. It is the kind of straight I have always wanted. Micheal Jackson is playing in the background. It does not suit this environment. I clock watch, 5 past, 10 past, 15 past.

I am led to a room. In the room is a row of 4 beds. A nurse leads me into a side cubicle and makes me wait there. She must be around 24. She is smiley and she has freckles, as well as a distinctive Irish accent. I immediately take a liking to her. I can still hear the other room - sobs sounding similar to ones I had made earlier. One women is screaming - the nurses are having trouble making her quieten down. They are all weary eyed and blank faced. None seem aware of their surrounding, or seem to know what they have done. Apart from the screamer. She is taken to another room, she is having difficulty walking.

I am unsure.