Is It Spring Yet?

Caitlyn

It was late. One cold December night.
It was the winter my parents died. It had only been a week... I was waiting, in the hospital. Just watching Victoria sleep. I was doing paper work when I heard a loud commotion outside the room.

"I'm never going to leave this place, am I!?" A girl shouts. Grunts and small screams flitter through the air and into my room.

"Calm down, miss Rosswell!" Judy, a nurse I knew, yells.

"Why should you care if I die? Why should anyone?! It's my life! I have free will! Feelings! What does any of it have to do with you? Who are you to control me?!" The girl screams.

"I am your father and this is what is best for you!" A new voice yells.

"You're not my father!" She yells, her voice drifts off. The grunting continues, getting softer as the seconds pass. And it then stops completely, accompanied by commands.

"Help me carry her."

I step outside to see what the whole ordeal was about, catching a glimpse of the girl in question. She's so pale. All skin and bones. Her cheeks and eyes were sunken in, casting deep shadows across her face. Her body looks worn, un-even skin tones vary over her . Purple, white, cream... Black, blue... Red.

All over her arms are bright red scars, surrounded by blue and purple bruises. Her arms don't even look like they belong to a human being.

"My god..." I whisper to myself as they carry her limp body away.

I walk over to one of the nurses, my interest suddenly peaked by this girl. The nurse is holding a needle and syringe, empty. They must have drugged her to get her to calm down, just enough to get her into her room. Another nurse is grumbling to herself, running her hand nervously through her hair. Judy stands with a broom, cleaning up the remains of a broken vase.

"What's the deal with that?" I ask Judy, casually, as I walk towards her. I begin to help clean up the larger pieces of broken clay.

"Caitlyn Rosswell," she replies, shaking her head, "Her adoptive father is the neurosurgeon at the hospital. Best one we have." she sighs, shaking her head," Anyways, last year she found out that she was adopted. Which caused the poor thing's life to go on a downward spiral. Mr. Rosswell never paid much attention to her, not after his late wife died when Caitlyn was 6. She has always been a perfectionist, but her grades were never good enough for her father. Nope. He has shunned her for 12 years, not even showing up to school plays, or wishing her happy birthday. She got in with the wrong crowd, drugs and sex and bad boys. So, after she found out she was adopted, more drugs, no food, and now she had to go cut up her arms and legs too. That poor thing just needs a little love." She explains, the other nurses and patients have cleared out, going on to do better things, rather than watch all this drama I suppose.

Caitlyn's words float through my mind;
You're not my father...
No better than my last words to my parents... "Hmm.... Say, Judy. How do you know all of this?" I inquire, wanting to see if I could learn more. By this point all the cleaning has finished.

"Nurses know a lot more than people think," she says with a wink and a grin, "We know everyone, and hospital walls are quite thin." And with that, she picks up her broom and dust pan and walks away. Leaving me to wonder just how much she knows about me.

~~~~~~~

Two or so hours later, the hospital is quiet. It is late at night, the last bus had already left the station. I still hadn't sold my parents' home and bought a closer apartment. I lived half way across the town. Too far to walk.

Victoria was still sleeping. She needs her rest. I had done all my homework. I was left to wonder the halls of the hospital, not daring to leave, in-case Victoria woke.

Walking the hospital corridors at night always brought me an odd sensation of mystery and discomfort. As you could walk through many different atmospheres, from joy and sorrow to anger and confusion. I could only think of the pain these families must have felt. I walk and walk, occasionally passing by doctors and nurses, offering them a simple nod of appreciation. As I walk I begin to hear familiar sobs.

I edge closer to the room, and glance inside. Caitlyn is laying on the hospital bed, on her side, crying. I consider leaving her be, just walking away. But, I understood how she felt. After my parents died, I wanted to die too. What's the point in staying? I'm worthless, it's my fault they're gone. I was certain that I would never be happy again.

Then I remembered Victoria.

Even though her parents are gone, even though she is in constant pain. Even though she has to consistently battle this illness that everyone knows will end in tears.

She keeps trying.

She pushes and strives to live. If just a day longer. If just one more week.

If just one more spring.

She continues on.

The thought of my beautiful little sister, laying in a hospital bed, fighting for one more day, is what gave me the will to live on.

And maybe- Maybe what Caitlyn needs is that. A will. Support. A reason to live. That is why I went into her room that night.