Blade (Watty Awards 2013)

Chapter 16

Chapter 16-

It has been two days, two whole days since I’ve been in the hospital.

One to get me ‘rehydrated’ and another to make sure I was ‘stable’

There weren’t too much people in room but still it still felt like I had a million eyes on me.

There was Georgia, who would tear up every time she looked at me, but never said anything. I’m glad I didn’t want to be lectured and it wasn’t her place to judge me. Therefore we avoided eye contact.

My doctor, who was old and talked with a slight shake in his rough voice, unlike Georgia, he seemed to be filled with questions and concerns about my life at home. I never actually answered one, just nodded or shook my head. That seemed to work for both of us.  

Then a random nurse, she clears her throat way too often to be normal and didn’t look directly at me when talking to me. “I’ve never met a cutter before…” She stated, her voice young sounding and squeaky, but her face tired and dried up. I guess that only created an illusion that she was old. I growled at her and well after that, she didn’t say much.

Lastly there was Santana, long golden locks and beautiful brown eyes and all. She stayed the two days with me or at least what she could of the two days, rushing over directly after school. She held my hand and whispered sweet words of encouragement, letting me know everything would be alright.

Despite her kindness, she was a part of the majority that just wouldn’t stop staring. And I’m pretty sure the majority would be the rest of the world.

I bet everyone had heard of the Lillian Griffin fiasco. That worries me. I couldn’t be the center of attention to the world, At least not in this light.

At some points I caught Santana staring at me and then she would look away very quickly.

I know what she was thinking.

 Lillian cuts….she needs pity.

The thought roused a deep grumble from me. I wanted to tell her to take her pity and shove it; I am not a pity fest.

If you’re wondering no, Mom wasn’t at the hospital with me, At least not when I woke up. Not that I wanted to see her. She would just yell about reputation or some shit like that and I didn’t want to hear it.

No, Dad didn’t call me. And no I didn’t and I DON’T want to talk to him. He would probably be on mom’s side anyway. He would probably try to punish me.

I wince at the thought of being sprawled out across Dad’s leg receiving at spanking.

I suppose I expected that they would hate me even more now.

Remember when I said I think my parents love me? Yeah, now I’m sure they don’t. They love their reputation. That’s all I am. A rep. We were supposed to be some shitty model family of what a good life was like. That’s why we always keep our problems to ourselves. That’s why we pretend to tolerate each other outside of home. The act is getting old.

I mean parents were supposed to be there right? Pretending or not they should right?  Well if that case is true then I think mine are either dysfunctional or didn’t get the memo.

I side with dysfunctional.

So the ride home is an unusual eerie silent. Santana mindlessly holds my hand and plays with my fingers and Georgia keeps glancing at me.

I want to tell her to stop.

Stop looking already.

But I am in no position to argue so I sigh and sit back until we pull up to our house.