The only one

Chapter 11

I turned away from Marcus, having my back facing him. I put my face beneath my blanket hoping that the covers will muffle the sound of my sobbing.

He put his hand on my shoulder, attempting to comfort me, but I slapped it off like it was a fly.

"What's wrong" he asked attempting to comfort me.

"Get out" I managed to say trying to sound tough.

But he didn't budge.

And that's what pushed me off the edge. That was it. All of this was way too much, and that's when I snapped.

"You have no right to come into my room after what you did the other day and if you didn't notice," I began to increase my volume of my voice, still forcing the words to come out of my mouth, as my throat ached with a scratchy feeling. But I wasn't done, I cleared my throat and continued.

"This isn't a good time right now. I don't know how you have the nerve to come in here. You don't know what I have been through and so you seriously need to leave or I'm going to call the front desk!" I yelled as I got up.

Wires and plugs that were connected to me were torn off and I took off into the hallway going wherever my soar legs would take me. I could hear rushed footsteps behind me.

"LEAVE ME ALONE" I screamed as loud as my lungs would allow as I scampered around the hospital until I made a full circle and ended back at my room, and I was trying...yet again.

I hate it when I cry because everyone thinks I'm strong, and that I can take what is being done to me, but in the middle of the night when everyone is asleep, I am up staring at the ceiling of my room, curled up in a ball, water pouring out of my eyes.

When this happens, I feel so weak and helpless.

But when I truly think about it, that's what I am.

I sprinted into my bed, going under the covers making an attempt to disappear from the world. But, as if on cue, Marcus steps in the room yet again.

I didn't get it, what did he want from me? He made it very clear that he didn't care about my problems. Was he trying to make me upset, because if he was, he was doing a very good job.

He quickly made his way into the room, he had witnessed my truly depressed expression, his reaction perplexed me. As if a lion had let its predator get away purposely.

His hands shot up to his face as he turned around and jogged out of the room. Obviously, he was upset about something, but I was the one who was supposed to be upset.

Once he left, I realized how large my headache really was, my head was pounding as if my heart and my brain had switched places, but they both weren't working too well.

I slowly drifted off to sleep hoping that soon a solution would come out of all of this

...

The first thing I saw waking up was the sun rising, indicating a new beginning to a new day.

Maybe today would be okay.

I got out of bed and went into the bathroom. The hospital bathroom was larger than the one in my house.

As I walked inside, I glanced at my reflection and then looked back for what seemed like an eternity. My hair was a tangled up mess, sticking out of every possible place. My entire body was covered with scratches and bruises from events thrown into oblivion.
My hands torn up with scars with dried blood drips looking like splattered paint. I looked up to my face noticing its color, redder than a tomato.

But the worst was my eyes.

If you look at anyone's eyes, you can tell how they feel in that moment. But no one ver cared to look into my eyes.

They were light brown symbolizing my weakness. I don't know how, but they could describe my pain easier than I could ever say.

Although I saw my complexion in the mirror looking more awful than I thought, I knew the way I looked on the outside wouldn't compare to what's on the inside.

The scars would never be worse than the broken hearts.

I was lost in my thoughts when I heard a knock on the door.

A voice came from the other side of the door, "Lira, I really need to talk to you"