Depression

Chapter 17

The birds outside the window of Buttercup's hospital room flew freely, making somersaults and figure eights in the blue sky. Buttercup wished she was free. Free from this world. But she wasn't. She was still alive, much to her chagrin. Was that Butch I heard when I was dying? she thought. She shook her head. It must've been the pills.

A sudden slam alarmed her and she turned towards the door. To her astonishment, Butch stood there with a hand gripping the doorknob and the other hand on his hip, his face showing his emotions freely. "Here I am," he said with a snarl. "Alive and well and mad as hell."

He strode into the room and slammed the door behind him, making her jump again. "You'd better give me a damn explanation why you tried to commit suicide or else I'm going to hit you. And I'll remind you I don't give a damn if I break your face."

She stayed quiet, tactfully keeping her eyes focused on the window. "Damn it, Buttercup!" He stomped the floor and cracks appeared on the surface. "Give me a damn answer!"

She turned her head towards him. "Butch, relax. You'll break the whole hospital. But I'm glad you're alive."

"You're trying to stray from the subject!" he exclaimed. "Why the hell would you try suicide to solve your problems?!"

Slowly, Buttercup moved to a sitting position. "Isn't that what people who were depressed do?" She sounded rather innocuous, which only added to his fire of anger.

"You're lying to me! You've done some stupid things before but you never did anything stupid like try to die all because other depressed people did it!"

"Did you just call me stupid?!" That made her drop the innocence act when she heard him call her stupid.

"Then let's say you were idiotic!"

"I'm not idiotic!"

"Of course you are!" he retorted. "If you weren't idiotic, you'd really tell me the truth because trying suicide all because other people had done it is the stupidest excuse I'd ever heard of!"

"Butch, shut up!"

They stayed in a glaring match until Buttercup closed her eyes and lied back down on the pillow. "Butch, I'm really not in the mood for a confrontation."

He moved to the foot of the bed and braced his hands on the edge. "Buttercup, I don't give a damn whether you're in the mood for a confrontation or not." His voice was low and dangerous. "If you don't want a confrontation, answer my damn questions."

"So ask!" She threw her hands up in the air and let them fall back onto the bed.

Butch dug in his pocket and threw the empty container he'd found yesterday on her lap. She sat up again and picked up the small cylindrical object. "This is your question? Sleeping pills?"

"So you know what they are."

"Of course I do! I bought these!"

"Yeah, to kill yourself." Although he was using a measured tone, his voice was plainly thick with anger. "Utonium tracked down the pharmacy you bought this from. Roseford Health Center. The pharmacist said you told her you were having sleeping problems so she recommended that."

"I wasn't lying!" she said defensively.

"Then what the hell were you doing at night if you were having sleeping problems?" he demanded.

"I..." She seemed at a loss for words. It wasn't difficult to see she didn't want to tell him.

"Buttercup, what the hell would you be doing late at night if you had sleeping problems?!" His voice rose angrily. She was obviously disinclined to tell him. He walked over to her and grabbed her by the collar of her hospital gown so they were a mere few inches apart. "Buttercup, I warned you I wouldn't be scared to hit you."