Where Am I? (boyxboy)

Epilogue

Holy- *hyperventilates* I'm not ready for this! *runs away sobbing*

*****

Four Months Later

"Come on, we're going to be late." I said, gathering my things in my hand, preparing myself for the big game. I looked up just in time to see Aunt Raven come down stairs, car keys in hand.

"Well then, what are we waiting for?" She asked, smiling widely, but there was a glistening sadness in her eyes. It never left her gaze. I don't think the carefree look was something she could ever get back. Once you experience trauma, it never goes away.

I owed Aunt Raven so much. She had gone above and beyond my expectations of what anyone would do for me. She came to visit me almost every day while I was in the hospital. I got to know Aunt Raven a lot more in those times. I also learned about my parents.

Aunt Raven told me stories of what my mom was like when she was younger, how she met my father, and when they fell in love, how happy they were when they had me. The way she described them in their youth, it was nothing like how I remembered them. She told me of a time when they were young, happy, alive.

After he left, Emelia came and visited me in the hospital, before they transferred me to the inpatient unit. I didn't know how she knew to come, and no one bothered to tell me at the time, but I felt a slight gratefulness to whomever told her. I needed her.

When she stormed into the room she looked like a hot mess. She wasn't wearing any make-up, in fact it looked like she just jumped right out of bed. Tears poured down her face, and it pained me to see her hurt, to see the devastation in her eyes. Luckily the nurses had bandaged my wound before she came in. I don't think Emelia could have handled seeing the physical effect of my inner rampage. She hugged me close and said over and over, 'I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry.' I knew she felt guilty. People always felt guilty when they left things badly with a person who was in pain. It was natural. She needed my forgiveness to forgive herself.

We didn't talk for very long. The hospital staff came to get me only a few minutes later. In that time Emelia said she was sorry for not forgiving me sooner. I know she only forgave me at the prospect that she'd never being able to. Still, it made me feel better, but only just. We talked about how it was before I came back. Why I changed and how she changed. I learned that with tragedy you learn things. You learn about yourself and you learn about others. We talked about a lot of things, but curved around the subject that had been burning in the back of everyone's mind. Why had I done it?

After I was transferred I had a lot of time to think. I wasn't unfamiliar with the setting, even if it was a different hospital I had been in before. The same procedures were followed. No pens. No strings longer than six inches. No belts. Nothing that you could harm yourself or anyone else with. It was only natural in the restrictive setting. Over that week I stabilized in the hospital, I met a lot of different people. The most interesting part of settings like that, are always the people.

Sometimes you get a good batch, all friendly and kind. Sometimes you get the bitter ones. Everyone is in the hospital for their own reason, and I'm no one to judge them on that reason. The part that always gets to me in the hospital, are the kids. Kids as young as eight show up in these settings. No one should have to be in a place where they're away from their home, much less a kid at the age of eight.

I met a lot of interesting people, but that didn't make the experience any better. A sixteen year old who heard voices. A seventeen year old who was on his way to jail. A seven year old who was abused by her dad. No one wants to be in a hospital where the food is bad and the staff don't care. No one wants to spend their days inside where you have to ask how's the weather, or what's the date. It's a helpless feeling, something that I'm not used to. I need control and in places like this, I have none. Sometimes it's just something you have to get used to.