Witching Souls - Part 1 of 3:
In a modern supernatural world, a 17-year-old Lexandria Langton, yearns to break free. A coven is meant to be family, but instead of celebrating her extraordinary abilities, why has her scared leader locked them away?
S...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
My ears picked up on hushed words and soft, even tone, beeping every few seconds. Opening my eyes, I whined at the bright white flooding my vision and placed an arm over my eyes. The talking stopped, and someone moved to my side.
"Hello, Lexandria. Do you know where you are?" spoke a soft male voice.
Blinking a few times, I was able to look at the man.
"No," I croaked, my throat dry.
"Here," he sat me up, giving me a cup of water.
Although groggy, I was able to look around.
'A hospital ward?' I looked at the man attending me and noticed his uniform—a nurse.
"Here, lean back," he altered the hospital bed, allowing me to sit up.
"You are in St. James Teaching Hospital. Now, I am going to take some observations, and then your visitors can come in."
He shone a light in my eye, blinding me more, before asking, "Do you remember what happened last night?"
"I fainted...?"
"Are you prone to nose bleeds or any bleeding conditions?"
I shook my head no.
"Any chance you could be pregnant?"
I huffed slightly in annoyance, "No."
He placed a blood pressure cuff on my arm and a gadget on my finger.
"Taken any recreational drugs recently?"
"No."
"Alcohol?"
"Zilch."
"New medications?"
"Nope."
"Okay, thank you," he said, scribbling down on a folder, "We took some blood and a head CT scan. The doctor will be up soon to talk about your results. Am I okay to let your visitors in?"
"Yes, thank you," I glanced at his nameplate, "Shaun."
"Not a problem. Press this button if you need me."
I don't know who I was expecting...
Okay, I'm telling fibs. I was expecting a certain someone. Instead, I had a fretting Mother and an unfazed Nixon.
"Thank goodness Leo was there to help you. The nurse said it was most likely exhaustion or dehydration," she prattled.
"Mum, please... my head," I complained to stop her babbling and turned to Nixon, "Not to be rude... What are you doing here?"
