His Little Heart

A Helping Hand

^

I had lunch back in my room, a simple sandwich with a side of mixed fruits and a small chocolate chip cookie for dessert. Harry brought me a pitcher of ice chilled water that I could refill on my own with my little cup.

While I ate, I thought of my diagnosis. It didn't sound fun to have, Dissociation Anxiety, and I wanted to have a dictionary on me so I could look up the meaning behind those two words. Clue the puzzle pieces together, try to figure things out before Dr. Hiddleston shared more with me on my condition.

The rest of the day, after my little lunch, went by quickly. I entertained myself with napping and creating up daydreams in my head on what would happen to me next. In one senecio, I was being heavily medicated to keep my mind intact and from falling apart, Dr. Hiddleston failing to reassure me it was for my own good. I was begging, crying, tired of being forced to ingest pills that only made me madder and more unstable. It got so vivid, this awful senecio, I stopped it before it could get worse, frightened by the possibility of it actually occurring in real life. It left me feeling cold and anxious all over again.

Harry came back in to deliver my dinner meal. Having lost my appetite because of my scary daydream, I couldn't really enjoy the chicken and salad, only managing a few bits before giving up. Harry didn't mind, and taking the tray back, left me again in the small room. I hugged myself in the corner of the L bed, my mind starting to rewind back to before I was brought here.

My thoughts were interrupted by Harry returning to help me get ready for bed. I was given a new set of clothes, a new gown that was baby pink with little butterflies on it, and some white cozy socks. I quickly washed my face and used the restroom before taking some sips of water and crawling back into the bed.

Before leaving, Harry asked if I wanted the window closed, to which I shook my head at. It didn't matter if the window was open or closed, sleep would find me either way. "Alright," he went over to the door, and looking over his shoulder, said, "May you have the sweetest of dreams. If you need anything, just give a little holler and I'll be here."

It took awhile for me to fall asleep. Curling up on the bed, huddled closely together with the white blanket, my mind tried to think of what brought me here. I had been honest in saying I only remembered, briefly, the first few moments before my crisis, where I was heading up the steps to my orphanage before "waking" up in the hospital. What I was doing before the orphanage I struggled to retained, cloudy with jarring and unclear thoughts.

It frustrated me, not remembering, and it hurt too, my mind becoming too overwhelmed to think of anything else after that. I fell asleep soon after, my thoughts vacant of thinking more of my diagnosis like I'd wanted before drifting off to the land of sleep.

*

I was awoken by the quiet voice of Harry.

"Luna, sweetie," I heard him say through muffled hearing, "it's time to get up. Rise and shine!"

I grumbled something inaudible, a tired "Go away....", which earned me a warm-hearted chuckle.

"I'm sorry, but we got to get the day going," he whispered.

"F-Five more minutes," I mumbled against the white blanket tucked underneath my cheek. "P-Please."

"Up, up, sleeping beauty," he ordered me softly, a smile in his voice. I grumbled again at him, whining.

He got me up and watching me like a hawk, I dragged myself over to the tiny restroom, drawing the curtain shut between us. I quickly used the restroom, mumbling to myself the wish for a nice warm shower. Popping out through the curtain, I asked if I was allowed one before starting the adventures of the day.