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"They said, 'Babe, you gotta fake it till you make it' and I did."
𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚
The hospital smells like sharp things. Like metal and cold air and something white.
But Mama says I have synesthesia, she says it's a curse because I can feel absolutely everything too hard. Even colors.
I just think it's fun.
I don't like the smell of this place, but I like the way it looks—bright and clean, like the whole place is made of glass. The floors are so shiny that when I walk fast enough, my shoes make little squeaky noises against the tile. I like that part.
I don't like the people.
They talk too much. Too loud. Too slow. They look at me like I'm small, like I don't understand what they're saying. But I do. I understand everything.
Right now, I'm sitting on a big chair, my legs swinging back and forth. My clipboard is in my lap, full of my notes—numbers, little diagrams, the things I've memorized from this morning's files. I'm working. Just like Mama.
Mama is across the room, talking to a man in a stiff white coat. She looks serious. Her voice is low and clipped, the way it gets when she doesn't want anyone to interrupt.
So I wait. And I listen.
I'm not supposed to eavesdrop. Mama says it's rude, but I don't mean to do it. I just hear things. People don't know how to be quiet. They even say things with their mouths closed. They say weird things and each time I ask them why did they said that, they just answer with another question:
How do you know that?
I answer that I always know everything because that's what Mama told me to say to people who think just because I'm young I'm stupid.
The man is saying something about a patient. About "deterioration" and "lack of response" and other words that sound heavy. I flip to a new page on my clipboard, pressing my lips together.
I don't like it here today.
It's too boring.
I already finished reading the reports from this morning, already counted all the tiles on the ceiling (127, but some are cut off at the edges), and now I'm just waiting.
I kick my legs harder.
A nurse walks past me, then stops. She frowns. "Bella, sweetie, what are you doing here all alone? Where's your mother?"
