Trying To Survive

Thinking

~ Chapter 8 ~

It's been a day since I last saw Jett. I decided to stay distant from him. I need time to think it all through. I mean really does it sound normal to fall for a guy in a hospital, spend maybe a few months with him and then leave. Never seeing him again.

No. It's not logical.

It's Saturday. We get to sleep in. Elisa chose to leave me alone for a while.

Here and there we talk about the little things, nothing that made me want to dig my nails in my skin... again.

I stare at the white popcorn ceiling. They should really put some colors in these rooms. I would feel better if the walls were a baby blue or maybe rainbow? White walls and tan carpet just doesn't scream happy or recovery.

It's 8 o'clock right now. I still have two hours of sleep. I'm not going to though. My mind is to preoccupied.

Thinking about the stupid boy and this stupid hospital and my stupid problems.

Maybe if I act all hunky-dory I can get out of here sooner and continue my shitty life with my grandparents and mother. Forget about all this.

I get up from my little bed and shuffle to the bathroom. There is no use trying to sleep. I wonder if I can go out and explore the building more. Maybe meet some more people that I won't see ever again. Start liking them. Spend a few months getting to know them and be heart broken when it's time to go our separate ways. Sounds like a nice plan.

I stand in the hot water and reminisce about different events. I don't know why things get so serious when taking a shower. I always think about different things when in hot water.

Whether it's stupid things like working on my album or making up my Oscar award speech for when I'm staring in a big movie later on in life. Sometimes I decide really important things or think about memories from my childhood.

Different things happen in every shower.

That sounds a lot more dirtier than I meant it to be.

This time I just think about my dad. My old family. How I missed those peaceful days when my mom, dad, grandparents and me would all gather on important holidays and spend hours laughing, smiling and enjoying life.

I miss those days horribly. It makes my heart ache.

I haven't really given much of a background on how my dad was killed. Not something most kids should have to think about. Sometimes I will catch myself crying in bed thinking about it all. Other times I'm numb to the point where I just sit emotionless staring at nothing.

My father was shot at a local convenient store.

I think I was like seven maybe older when things start to crumble. Mom and Dad got into a fight. -Wasn't the first one- It was way passed my bed time when I heard all the yelling. I can't really say what they were going at it for. At such a young age all you really want when your parents are fighting is for everything to stop. For the nightmares to end and everything go back to the fairy tale life you saw in movies. We all know it really doesn't end happily.

I walked down the stairs, a tight grip on my stuffed doggy I got a year ago for my birthday. I slowly walk down the hall to the living room where all the commotion is. Loud voices booming in my ears.

I didn't pay much attention to the words they were saying only their expressions. Dad's all red in the face, with veins popping out the side of his neck. Mom has tears rolling down her cheeks. She holds a glass bottle tightly.

All the screams stop when they both

see me.

"Sweetie go back to bed." Dad crouches down to my level with a fake smile on his face. He pinches my cheeks and kisses my head.