Intersecting Lines

Chapter 1

                I can feel my sore body wrapped up in casts. Today marks my first week at the hospital and I don't feel any changes at all. The nurses said that they injected pain reliever but the way I feel right now, I'm starting to think they're all a bunch of liars. They told me that I should be able to endure the pain by now because if not, I'll be dependent on the pain reliever and they told me that it's not such a good thing if that happens.  Mom entered the room with a basket of fruits and she wears that smile like I didn't know how hard she cried last night when she thought I was asleep – when I prayed to God that I wanted to die." I'm not supposed to be here" I think to myself. I should be out in the ice rink practicing for the nationals I dedicated my whole life to. I shouldn't be lying in some hospital bed wrapped up in a cast, dressed in a hospital gown, motionless, bed ridden and having thoughts on how I could instantly kill myself.

"How are you feeling today?" Mom asked as she placed the basket of fruits on my bedside table. We're currently in the orthopedic ward so there are a couple of other patients and beds besides mine. I don't like it when mom asked me this question. It's obvious how much of a struggle I'm currently experiencing and there she goes asking me how I'm feeling today. I feel like dying. I wanted to tell her that since the beginning of the week. I feel like dying every second of everyday since that accident happened. But I can't tell her that, can I? So I just have to remain quiet. This is how I do it – rebellion. Others would shout, break a couple of plates, curse, do drugs, and try alcohol. Others do a lot of self-destructive stuff that won't even kill you. As for me, this is how I do it. I do it silently. I don't want to drag others with me. I'm a very considerate person.  Last night, I tried holding my breath until I die. Apparently, it is human body's defense mechanism to breathe when you need to. So in the end, that suicide of mine wasn't all that successful.

                I diverted my eyes away from mom into some empty space in the ward. I saw her seat on the chair at the right side of my bed in the corner of my eyes. She knew I was trying to avoid her but she pretended I didn't hear the question so she repeated it to me. This time, I had to answer.

"I'm not feeling any better." I told her without looking, I can see her sigh but she tried her best to keep it down so I won't hear it. I had to pretend I didn't.

"Sophie, it's been a week. Mr. Lee called saying that you're not answering his messages. I know your phone is fully charged but why won't you send him a reply?" She sounds very worried that I didn't reply to my manager's messages. I wanted to reply. My right hand isn't in a cast and I can reply. But I didn't. Because seriously, what would I say? That the doctor told me that the accident tore some major muscles and bones in my body and we are all probably screwed cause I can't make it to the starters of the national tournament? That I wouldn't be able to skate that well cause it takes around nine months for me to heal? Or should I tell him the fact that I think my career in figure skating ended before it even began?

Instead of saying all these to mom, I went with the simpler reply, "There's nothing for me to say." Mom didn't ask me another question. She just grabbed two apples from the fruit basket and she began peeling it on the bedside table. I looked away again and tried to close my eyes. I'm not trying to sleep. I'm trying to think – think of ways on how to properly execute my suicide while mom is away and when I can finally stand on my own. The doctor said that I could lift myself from the bed and ride the wheelchair two weeks from now. So all I have to do is plan for two weeks.

~~~

 

                I was practicing on the rink that day. Everything went well; I executed all my moves correctly and gracefully. I even finished the whole song without a notice from my coach. Basically, everything was perfect that day. It was supposed to be a perfect day. But as I was making my way home while riding the car, I got into an accident at an intersection. I know perfectly it was my turn to move. The green light was on and I was supposed to go. But someone made the mistake of going too fast and we eventually crashed. Everything was blurry even if I tried to focus on things. I can feel liquid running down my face, little did I know that it was blood from a cut on the left side of my forehead – my body doesn't feel like it's my body. I was too numb by the pain. Funny isn't it? How too much pain could make you feel numb. I just find it so ironic. Everything was too surreal for me that I had to close my eyes and tell myself that everything was a dream.