A sun is what she was.    “AAAAH.” The scream goes and repeats itself for another million times. I can't say if it’s a feminine scream or not, but it is one you can find in a thriller movie. There are times it pauses. Sometimes it even prolongs. Rarely it shortens. It doesn’t hurt but it’s annoying me.

   I don’t think I'll be having any sleep tonight.
   “Are you sure you don't want to take a nap instead?” Brian asks me whilst pushing the wheelchair out of the ward. His dark, copper hair has strands of bed hair that proves that he had to rush out of bed to come here. “You barely slept!”    “The same goes for you! You only went to bed at 6 AM.”    “That’s because I had to answer your texts and keep you company the whole night. And at least, I slept!”    “Hey, I took a few snores too. You worry too much. You could’ve just ignored me last night. You know I wouldn’t mind.”    He grunts and says, with his best feminine voice, “It’s because I care for you, darling.”    I flinch because I’d never expect Brian to have the courage to call me ‘darling’. That was a bold move and have had me feeling very uncomfortable. So I expect him to take that back but he doesn't. “So I’m a ‘darling’ to you now?”    “Why? You don’t like it? Me calling you that?”    “It just… sounds weird coming from you.”     The wheelchair’s speed decreases and it makes me question why but I keep my mouth shut because I have a few guesses and one of them I don’t like. Brian is awfully silent too. Did I offend him? He stops so our journey to the elevator pauses. I feel him shifting his weight, his lips moving closer to my left ear.    “Then… I'll just keep calling you ‘darling’, darling,” he says, tone full of mischief. His deep voice provides me an image of him smirking. It is as if I am trapped but I'm glad that he's not offended.    “Ew!” I exclaim as I realize I have goosebumps all over. “So this is how you’re going to be, huh? Teasing me when I’m helpless, when I can’t kick your ?”    “You tease me every time.”     I ignore him. The weather today is rather nice. Leaves are falling but I see them more as if they’re flying. They’re unattached. They’re free. I look at the sky where the sun hides behind the clouds and it makes me wonder what’s the story for the leaves in autumn.    The wheelchair moves again. This time, no one is talking because we're all reminiscing. I miss the boys and I’m sure Brian misses them too. After my accident, the manager gave everyone a one-week-holiday (which, unfortunately, means we won’t be having our next holiday anytime soon). It’s really unfair that when now I can’t move my legs by my own, he tells us to run free. Brian is a weird fella. I don't know why he’s here and I feel like it’s best not to know because I’m grateful for his visits.    We enter the elevator, silent because there are people around us until...    “Achoo!”    Everyone turns to Brian and I try to look at him, but the elevator is too crowded. There’s little distance for me to see his face. It’s not that his sneeze is loud or any kind that may embarrass him but it just came out of the blue, disrupting the quiet that people believed is equivalent to peace.    To them, he is a deviant.    But to me, he is a hero.    “Sorry, sorry,” he tells them, probably blushing.    That’s what makes Brian endearing and an exception to everybody – him being easily embarrassed and impressed. I snort at the awkward situation, gaining some eyes.    The elevator stops at first floor and a woman enters. I guess there’s space, after all. Maybe it’s because I'm sitting which makes me the size of a 9 year old child so the sight of a few tall, lean adults seems like a lot to me. At the corner, after a few seconds of observation, I can’t clearly see the newcomer’s face but I know, just by her small figure and short, almond hair, that it’s her, Anonymous (a name I've given for the girl with the scream). I try to get her attention but she seems to be preoccupied within the small crowd. Her petite figure sinks in the group of tall and large people.    I whisper to Brian, “It’s Anonymous.”    Brian’s lips brush my hair as he leans in to get a better hearing. “Who?”    “The girl from yesterday.”    “Oh, the ghost,” he says it, rather loudly and gets another round of stares.    I like attention but not this type of attention. We hit the ground floor and we both get out last. My eyes follow Anonymous who is heading towards the same bench she was sat at yesterday.    “I want to sit with her,” I tell Brian.    “No,” he replies rather harshly.    I turn and he moves a bit to the back so I can see the pure seriousness on his face. “What? Why?”    “I've heard stories about people mistaking ghosts as other people,” he answers. “And the endings are not all happy.”    “But ghosts are people. Just dead ones,” I argue. “Plus, you’re the one who told me that there are no such things as ghosts in the daylight.” I say the last few words in my best-imitation-of-Brian’s-voice-but-just-a-little-more-stupi