5th June, 1988
A man, my father, waits, nervously, outside a door. He wants to know what's going on inside, but is too scared to go in. He looks around the hospital ward, with its happy pictures trying to cheer up the occupants, side by side with the pure white walls that seem so unnatural and, all in all, negate any positivity that had been created. He just wants it to be over. Quickly.
From the room steps a tired-looking woman. One of the midwives, he thought to himself and got up. He's no less nervous now, in fact, he's more nervous. As he walks into the room, a young woman, pretty if it wasn't for her 3 hour ordeal she had just been through, smiles at him. He suddenly realises that he was stuck here forever with this woman and the small bundle of crying human tissue in her hands. He panicks.
And that's how my game started. With my Dad running down the hallway of the maternity ward and my Mum crying.