Beep. Beep. Beep.

The machines are getting on your nerves. You have this rare condition - it doesn't affect how you physically look besides from weight, but basically, your taste buds are different. Look the same as a normal person's, but every single food that hits your tongue tastes like pure shit. People thought you were just picky - but it was a real thing. So, you are a bit on the slimmer side.

Also, the air in your lungs is complicated. There isn't enough. So, a machine is attached to your chest, the corner of your mouth and your wrist, all somehow transferring air in their own complicated styles.

Your doctor: Dr. Mayhew. He's a busy guy, but he tries to check on his patients. He's a good doctor at St. Agatha General.

You can't sleep. You're a helpless insomniac - so you are sat up in the hospital bed in your lonely, white room. You're all alone, the only sound heard to your ears is the beeping of the machines. You're just thinking '8 billion lives on Earth and I got this one? I'll probably just die in this bed.'

It's 1am. You don't know if Charlie is on a night shift or not. But now you do.

Your door creeps open and Charlie peers in.

"You aren't sleeping. Everything okay?"

He now steps in, closing the door behind him. Pure darkness envelopes you both.