Unthinkable

Unthinkable ~ Chapter 3

A couple of days had passed and the doctors stated that I was recovering quickly. To be honest, I was relieved, but also a bit disappointed. I had talked to Damien more in the past few days than I had in months. With him off to college and earning a Masters degree, we didn't really have much time to talk. It was amazing to finally catch up during the hospital visits, but without them, I was afraid it would go back to video-chatting once a month.

As for the fall, I couldn't figure out what all the fuss was about. The doctors refuse to call it anything but an accident, and my visitors kept sharing sympathetic glances whenever the subject came up. Honestly, it was getting to a point that I was more annoyed than curious. 

"Well, Manila, it seems that your leg is healing up quite well," a doctor had informed me on my last day being cooped up in that hospital bed. "Tomorrow we'll start getting you back on your feet and into physical therapy. Depending on your progress, we will see when you are fully capable of handling yourself."

I nodded, flashing her a genuine smile as compensation for my attitude lately. I just felt tired. Really tired. The doctor smiled back and left.

Kania came in a few minutes later, her arms filled with chocolate and cookies. A laugh bubbled from my lips as she approached me, dumping the goodies in my lap before grabbing a bar of chocolate for herself. She got comfortable on the chair next to my bed, which had become a routine visitor chair since Damien pulled it up. 

"So, how's everything healing up?" She asked, her mouth already filled with chocolate.

"Pretty quickly, apparently," I replied, ripping open a pack of cookies. "The doctors said I should be out by tomorrow."

Kania's eyes widened, a smile plastering across her face. "That's great! So, you're coming home?"

"I don't know, exactly. They say I have to do some physical therapy, so I don't know if that means staying in the hospital or not."

"Probably not," she told me, crumpling up her wrapper and tossing it into a trash can in the far corner. Somehow, I just remembered that she had always been the sporty type. I guess the amnesia was a bit worse than they thought.

"How do you know?"

"Well, I'm just guessing that physical therapy is done while you're at home. You might have to come into the hospital for a little bit, but at least you get to come home."

I thought about that for a moment, reminiscing on how Damien and I used to do the dumbest things back when he used to live with me. If Damien was still there, we might be able to hang out. Suddenly, I was getting excited to go home after what felt like ages.

"Yeah, I hope so."

Kania and I talked for a while, eating away at the goodies until I felt like my stomach would burst. She offered to take the rest to my apartment, but I told her she could eat the rest. She did not hesitate to oblige. 

When Kania left towards the evening, I felt oddly lonely. The influx of visitors these past few days had made me get used to hearing voices and seeing faces nearly all of the time. The only time I wasn't hoarded by worried guests was when I was sleeping or when the nurse shooed them away. Today, it was different though. I felt a pit in my stomach, the way I felt when I knew something was coming but I wasn't so sure I would like it.

Maybe it was the fact that I was finally going home.

My thoughts were interrupted by the creaking of the door, a nurse popping his head in to check on me. I gave him a thumbs-up and he smiled, closing the door to leave me alone. Suddenly, a different person, I'm not really sure who it was, walked into my room and stared at me for a moment. The sudden intrusion of privacy kind of annoyed me.

"Can I help you?' I snapped, on instinct. I nearly kicked myself for speaking like that, but I was too tired to mutter any apology.

"Yes, actually." The man, or manly-looking woman (it was dark, okay?), shoved a clipboard in front of me, a pen dangling from the top corner. "I need you to sign this."

My eyebrow arched at the mysterious person as I set the clipboard down beside me. "Excuse me?"

"It's a contract. You must affirm that you will attend all ten sessions before deciding whether or not to continue with the therapy."

I stared at the shadowy figure in the dim light shining from my window, the moon's luminescence making the stranger seem even more eerie. I assumed the person was talking about my physical therapy, and picked up the clipboard, ready to sign.

"I don't see why I have to sign," I muttered, making sure I was loud enough for the person to hear. "Shouldn't you be getting parental consent?"

"It's for you. Not for them." 

I scoffed at the stranger's demeanor, starting to sign the paper. Surely the doctors would know all the details, so I don't need to read the fine print.

"If it's physical, why would I determine whether or not to continue? Wouldn't my leg determine that?"

Even in the darkness of the room, I could still see the man's eyebrow quirk upward, annoyance clearly marked across his face.

"I really don't know what you're talking about. Only you can determine your mental state."

I stopped signing, my eyes widening.

"Wait, what?"

"Ma'am, are you going to sign or not?"

"Wait," I nearly commanded, annoyed at this mysterious stranger and also, a bit frightened. "What the hell is this for?"

Now, the stranger wasn't annoyed, but genuinely confused by the way his (or her) brow furrowed. 

"You don't know?"

I was about to smack this person across the face.

"No." Obviously not, I thought.

The stranger paused, almost debating whether to tell me or not. I glanced at the clipboard, squinting to try and read the fine print. All I could read in the dim light was "prevention of attempts in the future."  The stranger cleared his throat.

"Ma'am, I was told that you were to attend a group therapy session for suicidal youth."