Page 5 of Hospital for Immortal Creatures

Amelia patted Tiffany’s white snout, thinking this might be the last time she ever saw the dog. She cast about for something else to say, something positive. “You’ll find work here effortlessly – you’re the honorary graduate.”

“I will be, after I take the last exam. But honestly, even so, nothing’s keeping me here.”

Amelia glanced at the dog. “What about her?”

“Her?” Nadine smiled. “She goes where I go. We’ll be couch-surfing until we find our own place.”

On her way to her car, Amelia couldn’t shake the thought that nothing was keeping her here either, so why the hell couldn’t she do what Nadine was doing and just leave this place?

Maybe it was time to get a dog.

***

When she reached her car, she found a sleek black Mercedes parked just a quarter of an inch in front, effectively blocking her in. A quick glance around confirmed that Amelia couldn’t back out either; she had been imprudent enough to reverse her orange Renault into the slot too close to the Golf behind her just five minutes ago.

Five fucking minutes! She’d been gone all of five minutes, and now she couldn’t get out because the Mercedes was occupying a space where parking wasn’t even allowed!

Amelia got in her car and, as patiently as she could muster, counted seven back-and-forth manoeuvres, trying to wedge herself out. With an exasperated huff, she turned the steering wheel and pressed the gas pedal to free herself from the parking space just a tenth of an inch from the shiny bumper of the expensive vehicle… only to crash into a different car that was passing down the street.

Her fingers tightened on the wheel. What the hell had she done? What kind of ridiculous…

The driver to her left started down the road, without getting out to check the damage she’d caused to his car.

Did he leave the scene?

The Renault died as Amelia’s head grew lighter. She glanced at her shaking hands, now white-knuckled onto the steering wheel. She had to check the damage on her car, so she started the engine, putting the shifter in reverse… Her breaths became shallower, her heart pounded in her throat.

Panic attacks. She was acquainted with them and knew better than to, well, panic because she was having one.

Breathe…

Nausea crept in as she backed the car into the parking space. To make matters worse, this time around, she didn’t succeed in avoiding the Mercedes. She slammed straight into it, scratching it with one long, loud metallic screech. Her heart wanted to jump out of her chest.

Across the street, a bald, burly man sprinted towards her, flailing his arms. Even through the closed car windows, the volley of swearwords he was aiming at her was more than audible. Rushing to his precious car, he inspected the minuscule scratch on the bumper, clutching his temples with his hands.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he yelled at Amelia through the window of her car. “Ya got any idea how much this car costs?”

She had no idea, but she intended to get out of the car with her head held high, and give him as much as it was necessary to repair the tiny scratch. Alas, the panic attack had other plans for her body, and she found herself unable to move. Even if she could have, she doubted her legs could hold her up.

“Are you drunk or something?!” His face reddened. “Get out of that fucking rust bucket!”

Amelia lowered her window, hating that her voice came out wobbly. “I’m sorry, it was an accident.” She despised how panic attacks weakened her body and earned her undesired sympathy. And being seen as a victim – she hated.

Though she didn’t look like a winner either, as she hung on her steering wheel, heart pumping erratically, mouth going dry. At least the man didn’t seem inclined to pity her.

“Accident, huh? Who gave you a driver’s licence? He must have been a fucking idiot!”

A tall man in a leather jacket and dark jeans showed up out of nowhere. “Is there a problem?” His eyes darted at her through the windshield.

The car owner whirled on him. “Who the hell are you?”

“Let’s all calm down, shall we?” The stranger raised his palms before his chest, but it was not the gesture that caught her attention. It was the fullness of his lips that curled at the corners and mocked the other man.

The bald man gave her a withering glare over his shoulder. “Did you call this guy over to rescue you?”

The stranger approached and placed a hand on the bald man’s shoulder, a light chestnut strand of hair falling over his profile. “Come with me and let’s solve this peacefully.”

The bald man clenched his fists. “Didn’t you hear me the first—” Something made him stop mid-sentence and nod in agreement. Without another spoken word, he stepped aside and followed the stranger down the sidewalk.

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