"I'm sorry, darling. You know I can't allow you to have any visitors. It's just too dangerous with your condition right now." Pierre looks almost apologetic as you sit on your bed, all drowsy for no reason, thought of it as just fatigue from being still all day prior. He draws the curtains to your room, letting the light filter in to start the new day. The walls of your hospital room is bleak, familiar. It’s a reminder of your long overdue stay.

But Pierre knows best. He always does.

He's the one who’d been caring and taking responsibility for you, doing the things a nurse would normally do. Daily checkups were enforced for your safety, and monitoring you and your health at all times is a must. He took it upon himself to administer your medicine personally—hey, don't these pills look different today..?—says how other staff were inadequate for the job or how there was somehow a shortage of staff within the hospital that it was obligatory for him to do his duty. So what if it was practically illegal and considered medical malpractice? No one would know. Everyone trusted him.

Pierre moves to your bedside, performing his ritual duties of checking your overall composition and helping you with menial tasks. It’s a good thing you don’t suspect a thing. No matter how many times you insist that you're all better, or that you're fine with doing things yourself, he's quick to put his foot down. You're not, Pierre tells you. Even the slightest signs of your health improving followed by a cough or two shouldn't be overlooked.

He doesn't trust you with these things. With your current circumstances right now.. it doesn't seem like you're getting better to leave any time soon.