O brave new world

Untitled Part 15

By the time we're at the top of the stairs I've managed to wriggle free of Dr. Green. I dash into the bathroom and slam the door shut behind me, flipping the lock. Poughkeepsie gives me a guilty look as she leaps from the toilet. Her muzzle is wet. What was she doing there? Eeew, she wasn't drinking, was she?

"Sang" Dr. Green calls through the door. "Stop hiding. I know you're tired; you're going to sleep tonight. It's not healthy."

I completely agree with him. Sleeping is not healthy because I might DIE in the process of waking up. I'm pretty sure he meant it a different way though. I demonstratively turn on the faucet and brush my teeth.

"I mean it, Sang, you're going to have to sleep tonight. I'm giving you five minutes to get ready for bed; then I'm going to open this door if you don't do it first."

I spit toothpaste into the basin than rinse out my mouth. I am not going to go to sleep; I don't care what he does, but I am not going to go to sleep. I stay in the bathroom, stubborn.

"You're time's up, Sang. Come out or I'm going to get you" Dr. Green calls. I ignore him. I'm not going to sleep; I'm going to live.

"Ten" he starts counting aloud. I hide in the bathtub. "Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One."

The door bursts open. Before I know what's happening Dr. Green has thrown me over his shoulder and is marching into the purple room. I struggle, but this time it's futile and I'm not going to pull my knife on him. Never again.

Dr. Green plops me on the bed. He holds me by my shoulders, leaving my arms free enough to convey my meaning. "Where are you pajamas, Sang?"

- I don't have any. And I'm not going to sleep anyway, so you can just forget it.

Dr. Green looks delighted for some unfathomable reason. Grinning, he picks me up again and drags me into the giant walk in closet. "That's where you're wrong, Pookie. You will sleep tonight. Now put this on." He hands me a t-shirt from one of the piles of clothing that fill this room.

- I can't just wear someone's shirt!

"Yes, you can. And it's not some random persons shirt, it's mine. Now put it on, you need some kind of sleep wear."

- I can't wear your shirt!

"And why not? It's a perfectly good shirt, it was in the laundry just a few days ago so it'll be overly clean the way Owen does things."

- I can't wear it. It's just not... right!

"You can wear that shirt, Pookie. Put it on or I'm going to put it on for you."

I stare at him, boiling with rage. How dare he just command me around! But he is not undressing me and if I'm unwilling to pull my knife I have no doubt that he's the stronger of us two.

- Get out!

"Thirty seconds, Sang, than I'm coming to get you" Dr. Green warns as he walks out of the closet, lightly closing the door behind him.

I already know from my earlier explorations that there's only that one access to this walk in closet so there's no way for me to run. Fuming, I pull off my own old t-shirt and drape his over me. I'm close to drowning in a sea of material that almost reaches my knees, so I kick off my pants as well while I'm at it.

"You're time is up, Pookie!" Dr. Green calls from the purple bedroom. How can he be so cheerful? My mother is dead; he's trying to force me to sleep and has blackmailed me into wearing his shirt; what is there to be cheerful about?

I come out of the closet swinging fists. My first punch lands in his gut with a satisfying Oompf!. He doubles over, falling to the ground, but his stupid legs tangle with mine and force me to follow. In a moment we're wrestling on the floor.

It's clear that Dr. Green has some experience with this kind of thing while mine is limited to what my mother still knew from her self-defense lessons. I know he's letting himself get hit by most of my punches and still he's easily winning. I hate him with all my heart.

Just as I'm reaching for my knife a stinging slap in my face makes me pause. "Look at me, Sang" Dr. Green commands. I look.

There's no stupid pity in his beautiful green eyes. Worry, yes, but it's nearly swallowed by rage and warning. And sadness. Behind it all is some sadness.

"Don't do it, Sang" Dr. Green's voice is dangerously low. "It's one thing to pull a knife in self defense, it's quite another to pull one in rage." I bare my teeth at him. Stupid doctor.

"This isn't you, Sang. You're tired and stressed because you don't want to sleep and your grief is making you angry. Think about how you'll feel in the morning. Do you really want to do something this unforgivable? The anger won't always be the there to keep you company."

I don't move a muscle, don't twitch, barely blink, but he must have felt my defeat because his eyes soften. "Why Sang? Why do you not want to sleep?"

I turn my head away.

"Do you have bad dreams, Sang? Dreams of things you'd rather forget?"

I stay silent.

"Tell me what's wrong, Sang, please, Pookie. I'm a doctor. I can help fix it. Please Sang. I don't want my Pookie to be hurting." The last is a faint whisper, but I hear it and those stupid tears are back.

- I don't want to die.

"I don't want you to die either, Pookie. You're much too special to let go when I've only just met you. Why do you think you're going to die?"

- Mr. Blackbourne...

"Go on. What did Owen say?"

- Mr. Blackbourne said I was having a fit when he came. He said I almost died because my throat hurt that morning. And it always hurts when I wake up. Always. I don't want to die. I haven't even played at the lake yet!

"Oh Pookie" Dr. Green lets out a long sigh and buries his face in my hair. After a few deep breaths he sits up and shifts me onto his lap. His arms wrap around me in a hug, so safe, so warm, so comforting. I can't do anything against the tears falling down my face. I don't want to die yet, but I'm tired and miserable and in this warm, safe place my mind is quickly loosing the battle to my body.

"Owen was worried about you, Pookie" Dr. Green begins. "He saw you twitching on the floor desperately trying to breath. But the moment he put you in an upright position it started to get better again. You weren't having a fit and you certainly weren't going to die, Pookie, though it might have been potentially dangerous. Owen was just trying to stress how worried he was and how he never wanted to have to witness that again; he exaggerated a little bit much when he said you could have died. It's totally okay to sleep; you won't die because of it."

- It sure felt like dying.

"I know, Pookie, I'm sure it was a horrible experience. But it couldn't have felt like dying; the only way you'd know that is if you had actually died. You didn't. You are still here among the living and I won't ever let you go, Sang."

He holds me as the tears keep on rolling down my face. Is he sure I won't die? I've been there before, and no one did anything to stop it. The only person I can rely on to not let myself die is myself. But Dr. Green says I won't die. Should I risk it? But what if I do die? I don't want to die. I'm so tired.

After a while Dr. Green picks us both off the floor and moves to the bed. Cuddling me close he pulls up the blankets, tucking us in.

"Sleep, Pookie, you need it. You're not going to die; I'll be right here the entire time to take care of you. I won't let you die."

- Do you promise?

"I promise, Pookie."

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