Obsession

Flowers And A Note

The lights hurt.

Even through my eyelids, it sears like a blade. White. Blinding. Heavy. I try to turn away, but my body won't move like it should. Everything feels weighted, like I'm underwater.

Then comes the sound. A soft beeping. Slow and steady. The kind of sound that says you're still here.

No.

My throat burns when I shallow, like I drank fire. I part my lips to speak, but they're cracked and dry. My tongue feels foreign in my mouth. There's a bitter taste-something chemical sterile.

I force my eyes open.

It's a hospital. I know this ceiling- smooth tiles, a faint stain in one corner, the glare of fluorescent lights that pretend to be the sun. There's a machine beside me with wires that vanish beneath the thin blanket draped over me. My arm is stiff, tethered to an IV. 

A plastic bracelet clings to my wrist like a shackle. My name is there, printed in black. They didn't get it wrong.

I didn't die.

Tears press behind my eyes, not because I'm grateful- but because I failed. Again

I thought the days of not being able to do anything right were over. But I guess not.

The door creaks. A nurse steps in, a woman with kind eyes and tired shoulders. She sees me awake and offers a smile that doesn't reach all the way.

"You're awake," she says softly, like I'm something delicate. Like I might shatter again.

I want to ask why? Why did you save me? Why did you pull me back when I was finally done? But my voice doesn't come. My body won't let me rage. It won't let me beg.

"You're in the medical ward at St. Mary's," she continues gently, checking the IV drip. 

"You were brought in two days ago. You lost quite a lot of blood."

I look away. My chest tightens as shame coils in my stomach. I can't meet her eyes. Not now. Maybe not ever.

With her mentioning that, I looked down at my arm just noticing it wrapped tightly with white bandage. The memory of what happened flooded my mind, instantly causing a headache. 

"Your vitals are stable. That's good," she adds. She hesitates for a moment before she says the next words, careful, cautious even.

"There's someone you can talk to. A counselor. If you want."

Want. As if I know what that evens means anymore. 

Life keeps throwing things I don't ask for my way. I never wanted them to, but they happened. Starting from the moment I was born, to losing my dad, my mother getting sick, losing my dignity to that monster and now this. I can't even kill myself in peace.

I stare at the ceiling again. It blurs behind the tears I refuse to let fall. I didn't plan to still be here. I don't know what to do now that I am. 

But I'm breathing.

Still breathing.

And somehow, that has to be enough for today. 

________________________________________________________________

I must've dozed off again.

Or maybe I blacked out. Time has been slippery since I woke up. Minutes stretch like hours or vanish completely. I only know it's later now- the light through the window has shifted to that pale gray blue that means early evening.

There's a knock.

Soft. Hesitant.

Then the door opens.