An Angels Murder

~Chapter Thirty-Two~

The room is quiet. The machines beep rhythmically, the noise is getting to me. I turn to the machine, pressing some random buttons.

I push too hard and it falls backwards, slamming to the ground.

The door to my room flys open. Sandra stands there, three boys behind her.

They walk over and I sigh, staring at the machine on the ground.

"The noise was starting to get to me," I whispered. She nods slightly, picking up the machine. There's some glass and plastic in the floor. The screen in shattered and some of the dials are missing. 

I turn away from them, rubbing my eyes with the palm of my hand. The machine gets taken away and a new one gets brought in.

"You can turn down the volume of the machine," she says softly. She attaches some patches to my chest and connects it to the machine, also attaching a heart monitor to my finger.

The monitor beeped but I could barely hear it. Sandra leaves and the three boys stare at me.

They have flowers and chocolate in their hands.

Chocolate...

They smile softly before handing me the flowers. Hydrangeas, babies breath and Lillies. All pink.

And Marcell isn't with them. They came and he didn't.

He doesn't want me anymore. He doesn't want anything to do with me anymore.

"How are you feeling?" Idris asks softly. I nodded my head.

"Better," I reply shortly. They nod before sitting on the chairs beside my bed.

"You're pitying me," I chuckled dryly. They shake their heads.

"You're our friend. We just wanted to see how you're doing-

"My own husband doesn't want to see me so why would you guys?" I scoff.

"That's not true Donatella. He's just very busy with a few thi-

"Enough," I whispered.

My own husband is too busy with work to even care about me.

Not that I want him to see me like this.

It's pitying.

But it's the principal of the situation. If he cared about me that much he would've dropped anything and everything to come to me. If he was true to his word about wanting a relationship with me be would still want me even though I'm sick.

Or maybe I'm expecting too much of him.

I wouldn't want to be with someone like me. A liar and a cheat and a manipulator.

I can't breathe. I can't find words to describe the feelings bubbling inside me. Maybe I feel sorry for myself. Maybe that's what it is. Maybe I feel sorry for him.

"Hey, everything's going to get better. All it is is that drugs and hospitals are a sensitive thing for Marcell," Sam explains. I nod my head, staring at the flowers.

"What did the doctor say?" Azores asks. I look over at him for a moment.

"Not much," I mumbled.

"She told me that you have anorexia and maybe even bulima," my expression doesn't change as Azores blurts out those words.

"You say it like it's a dirty word. Do you think it's dirty-