The Girl With the Dandelion Ring

Chapter 6: Measuring Time In Mental Breakdowns

Chapter 6: Measuring Time In Mental Breakdowns

I watch the clock as I wait for Alex to return. I will the hands to move faster, but they continue to tick, one second dragging after the next. I've been stuck in this damned hospital bed forever and Dr. Morris is not allowing me to leave. The car accident had left me with a large shard of glass impaled in my stomach, damaging it and causing my body to go into shock. I have been healing faster than expected, almost unnaturally so. I'm able to stand up with help now; only minor pains are assaulting my stomach. There's an IV bag attached to my arm, pumping my body with nutrients and water to prevent me from becoming dehydrated. Dr. Morris says that I should be able to leave in a few days unless any complications arise.

I'll be going home with Alex, my best friend who had posed as my brother so that he can come into my room whenever he wants. He had told the doctor that our parents had died in a car crash a few years ago. It helped explain away my confusion and random breakdowns. My tears have been flowing freely, sometimes just one or two but other times wave after wave of uncontrollable sobs have racked my body. I can't do much to control it, but I've been trying to keep them down, to suppress my emotions.

My finger taps anxiously on the metal railing. Only twenty minutes until school lets out. Which means about thirty five minutes until Alex arrives. I sigh; I have to find something to do until he shows up. My mind starts to wander, thinking about Alex. His parents actually did pass away a few years ago in a plane crash. I remember the phone call he got in the middle of school, he had stepped out of the classroom and listened to the call, halfway through he had sunken to the ground, one hand wrapped around the phone, one clutching at his hair. I had left the class to be with him, he collapsed in my arms and cried for what seemed like hours. He called his parents phones over and over again, listening to their recorded voices and praying that they were still alive.

After a few days we went up to see their bodies. They were badly burned and Alex could barely recognize his father. We had gripped each other's hands tightly, trying not to break down in tears again. Alex had been forced to move in with his aunt and abusive uncle. None of us knew that his uncle had treated his family that way until Alex had shown up at my door covered in blood and bruises.

His uncle had gotten drunk and started beating his aunt, Alex had stepped in, protecting his aunt with his own body. He had endured hit after hit, the older man lashing at Alex's back with his belt. His skin peeled back from his skin and he had cried out in pain, shielding the poor woman, but she did not try to help. Instead, she sat on the floor and watched in horror as the belt cut his skin again and again. Tears had flowed down both of their cheeks and Alex had clenched his eyes, blocking her terrified form from his gaze. Alex had clenched his fists, and turned to his uncle, ready to finally fight back.

The belt slashed across his face, the metal hooking his lip and causing it to rip. Blood had poured from the wound. Alex screamed out, his eyes darting around for a way to protect himself. That's when his eyes spotted the knife. It laid in the sink atop a cutting board, small chunks of tomatoes still littering the plate. The red of the tomato's juice shined in Alex's eyes as his hand wrapped around the knife's handle. His breath hitched as his terrified eyes met his uncles crazed ones. The he plunged it in the older man's chest.

The red blood had coated the blade as he slowly pulled it out. The man stumbled backwards, the belt slipping from his grasp. His uncle smiled at him, blood coating his teeth as he let loose a laugh that would forever haunt the orphaned child. Alex's lip curled, his breathing returned, the metallic smell of blood had coated his lungs and a red haze coated his vision.

He lunged forward and plunged the blade into his uncle's stomach, a rabid scream released from his throat. His aunt's screams didn't penetrate his rage and fear. He had pulled it out and slashed his uncle's throat, he stabbed and stabbed, his aunt's screams only adding to his terror. Alex slowly slid off of his uncle's dead body, staring in horror at what he had done. Blood had covered his entire body, matted in his blond hair, mixing with his tears. He had looked at his broken aunt, into her rage-filled eyes. She had screamed at him, she had told him to die, she had told him that he was a worthless piece of trash that had ruined her life, and destroyed the only thing she had ever loved