Take Care

I never much enjoyed hospitals. Especially not now. Everything was too clean, too orderly. The halls and their squeaky sneakers and calm voices making you feel safe. They make you feel like they know what to do and there's not a thing to worry about. I'm not that stupid though, I know what words are exchanged behind closed doors. The horrors of pain that are felt when the curtains are pulled, I was all too familiar with. What's worse, they made you sit in awfully uncomfortable chairs for hours on end. They say that the one you have dropped everything to see is not "in the right conditions to be seen."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked raising my voice at the basically innocent nurse. "Sir, I need you to lower your voice. We have many patients here and they need rest." She said calmly in the fake way that they do. I took a deep breath, praying that I would have the strength to deal with her until she let me in. "You know else needs rest? Maybe the guy who took smoking back up just so he wouldn't stress so much about the guy in there." I pointed out, motioning towards the door. She opened her mouth to say something I really couldn't care less about. "Or maybe somebody who needs rest is the guy that slept on the fucking roof last night because he didn't see the point of going back inside." I continued. I knew she was going to try and explain what his state was and what had happened but I already knew. "I understand that this is stressful for you however I don't think that you know-"

"Of course I know! Did you spend over fourteen years of your life with that man? Did you watch his addiction consume his brain almost entirely? Did you have to sit back and watch as the only person who's ever cared so Deeply for you continuously poison himself? I understand that you far superior to me for you fancy degree. I understand that all I've got is a guitar and a sad head. But let me tell you, there will never be a time when you know something about him that I don't." I said confidently hoping I had her defeated. She sighed, looking at me with sad eyes. She said nothing as everything else about her screamed. Then I began to think that maybe something was different this time. Maybe this woman did know things about Gerard, just by looking at him that I would never understand. I refused to apologize as I knew she was too low for that. "Sir," she began, her face slowly morphing into 'motherly' rather than 'I'm paid to say this'. "Gerard is sicker than you think."

Moments later I was seated in the worlds smallest office. The desk before me had only a laptop, a pen And a manila folder. The back wall was lined with a long bookshelf. Of course, every shelf was full of the biggest books I'd ever seen. In the corner there was a single house plant propped up next to the only window. I assumed it was made of plastic because it didn't seem like this room was often visited.

"Sorry for the wait, I'm Dr.Marten." she apologized, entering the room. She sat herself at the desk she was clearly unaccustomed to. I stayed quiet, giving her nothing but a slight nod. My thoughts were on the man who I apparently knew nothing about in a room I wasn't allowed into. She cleared her throat, sliding the folder in front of herself. "This," she gestured to the concealed papers, "are Mr.Way's files." She explained incorrectly. "You know, I thought since you can preform surgery that the least you could do was get a New right." I said, finallt put up with people constantly getting the name wrong. "Sorry, Mr. Iero-Way's files." She said with far too little remorse in her tone. I decided she was just like the rest, cold. "I don't care about the numbers. I just need to see his face." I grumbled, not caring how lovey it sounded. She sighed, obviously frustrated. "Fine then, I won't tell you the doses he took or the rate of his heart. However, you should know that his body is slowly becoming accustomed to dangerously high dosages." She paused, making sure I was still following. "That means that any medicine we give will have little to no effect." I knew what the meant. It means that he needs to fight this on his own, or die trying. "He doesn't know... Yet." She finished and seconds later I was alone again.