Vox Nihili: voice of nothing part three

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This is part three, as I have promised. Hope you enjoy!
So I lost the notebook where a lot of the in-between parts are located. it is my regret, but I will give you an overview of that part. I loved it, but I can't currently find it...
Gina reveals that her mother is a NY times journalist. She lets Vox talk to her mom, Gina Jingle, and she gets an appointment scheduled for an interview. As in, Paula intends to write an article on Vox. What segments I have located start at the next day, after the interview takes place.

........
Something jerked me from the cold, dark realms of slumber. A door had opened--my door, and someone was shaking my arm, my shoulder--A nurse. Her purple smock swayed as she wavered, pointing towards my TV screen. Hey, the janitor fixed it! Was my first thought, then my second was a strangely familiar photograph, with an image of a woman with dark, curly hair, honeyish beige skin. ....me..... The closed captioning box read: "anyone with information on this individual..."
"Holy, holy!" cried the nurse, pinwheeling her head from me to the screen.
"No, no, it's okay," I began, hoping to calm her down. How many nurses would I wondered as I attempted to get her attention.
"What? Why did the news anchor for channel four feature you!"
"It's fine. I talked to Paula Jingle yesterday, did an interview by phone," I said quietly.




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Well that was...short. Please try to find the missing parts. I wouldn't have posted this, since it skips some parts, but I guess I shouldn't complain. And they fixed the TV, yei :D !

Something jerked me from the cold, dark realms of slumber. A door had opened--my door, and someone was shaking my arm, my shoulder--A nurse.
You have to change those -- s to , or : but you're not supposed to use -- for anything when writing.

I can say with all honesty this is the best story in YWS I have read so far (sorry Anzius). I would like it if you would take the time to review my story, despite it not being as good as yours.
If the road is easy, the destination is worthless.



It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tube-shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats—the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill —The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it—and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another.
— JRR Tolkien