I barely remember the drive to the hospital, and found my way up to the intensive care unit. Jill was in a waiting room with another woman, who was in the midst of what I can only term hysterical weeping.
"Jessica," Jill said when I walked in, with Mary sobbing into her shoulder. She looked helpless, and I fought down an odd urge to laugh out loud.
"I'm here, I'm here," I said sourly. "Where is she?"
"She's using the bathroom," a new voice said from close behind me, and I turned around to look directly into a pair of large blue eyes. The eyes were framed by light blonde locks that fell around a delicate, narrow face. She wore a faded blue button-up shirt and a denim skirt – the sort of clothes you throw on when you leave a hotel room in a hurry.
"I'm guessing you're Sarah," I held out
