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0029 Amelia de la Roche

In a VIP room at one of the top hospitals in Rouen, a young lady lay quietly on the bed. Her usually fair but rosy complexion was absent. Instead, her skin had a tinge of blue into it like a person who lacked blood or was very sickly.

Two sets of intravenous lines were attached in each of her hands, while the vital statistic machine was clipped on her finger. The same machine made beeping noises in sync with her breathing. Anyone who would see her would feel their heartstrings tugging at the fragility she displayed.

It’s been three days since she had been sent to the hospital— three days since her emergency surgery. The lady arrived with three broken ribs and a punctured lung. It was safe to say that for a while, her life had been in danger. Knowing her identity, and the identity of the man who brought her to the hospital, the doctors did not waste

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