VALERIE

Fourteen

"Oh God why are you here?"

"Your sister, wanted me to see you, she said you'd only talk to me." He said sitting on the edge of the bed, shifting around Valerie faced him.

Nick was surprised at how dilated her pupils were, he could tell she had been crying because her eyes were puffy and her nose was runny.

"Yeah but you don't care."

"I came to help Grace out, I don't know, she says she needs to know why."

Valerie smiled, letting out a small giggle, "You know it's crazy how the people you love can turn on you."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, if I don't say anything they'll send me back to the fucking loony bin for months, and if I do say something they'll still send me back, I lose either way."

"So you'd rather kill yourself than go to a place where they'll help you?"

Valerie shook her head in a daze, her eyes gathering tears, "Yes. Nick you just don't know."

"Then fucking tell me." He said gently trying to keep his temper under control, reaching over he grabbed a hold of her hand. It was soft, delicate and cold, which was unlike her because he definitely knew she was always warm.

He liked her warmth, it radiated off of her sadness perfectly.

She stared at him while he concentrated on her hand, a frown occurred on her face, pulling her hand away she sighed, "Everyone I know wants me to get better but the pressure to actually get better Nick," She paused briefly, "It just makes me feel like I have to pretend to be perfectly fine when I'm literally rotting on the inside."

"Then stop rotting." He stated nonchalantly,

"How?"

"By not giving a fuck on what others have to say."

Valerie chuckled as she reached over to grab his hand, she squeezed it and read the tattoo'd letters he had going across his knuckles.

"Lone wolf." She repeated under her breath as she lifted his other hand to put them together.

"Show me all your tattoos?" Valerie asked gently putting his hands down onto the bed again.

Nick groaned slightly as he took his shirt off, tossing it to the ground Valerie's eyes marveled at the sight of the art that graced his body.

Covered in various tattoos Valerie fell in love with them, "Do they have any meaning?" She asked curiously.

"Point to one and I'll tell you if there's a story behind it." He replied,

Immediately she pointed to the large tattoo pieces on the side of both his ribs.

"These two, you have the Virgin Mary on this side, and another Virgin Mary on this side but this one is a skeleton."

Nick shrugged, "That's La Santa Muerte."

"La Santa Muerte?" Valerie repeated in a very horrendous Spanish accent.

Nick couldn't help but flash her a large smile, "Yeah, she's a saint, the saint of death, I got the Virgin Mary to represent life and innocence and I got La Santa Muerte to represent death and the loss of innocence."

"Isn't that a Hispanic thing?" 

"My first real girlfriend that I actually loved was Hispanic so she taught me all these kinds of interesting things."

Amused Valerie nodded her head before quickly pointing to a tattoo of a black Raven on his forearm.

"What's that for?"

"I like Edgar Allen Poe." He shrugged nonchalantly.

Studying the rest of his body that was filled with different tattoos she stayed quiet for minutes observing his body art, some in classy black ink and some in marvelous color.

She stopped at a small one in the dip of his right collar bone.

"Petunia." Valerie mumbled in confusion,

"Who's Petunia?" She asked Nick who now had his head laying in her lap,

Clenching his jaw, he swallowed the lump in his throat, "My mom."

"Oh, she must be a lovely woman." Valerie said cheerfully scouring his body for more confusing tattoos.

"Yeah." He simply replied staring up at the hospital rooms ceiling.

She wanted to know the meaning of all of them.

"I'm sorry if I'm asking so many questions, your tattoos are special but just for you."

Nick shrugged, "Don't worry about it, but I'm still waiting for you to tell me why you did it exactly."

A sigh escaped Valerie's parted lips, "Living with bipolar disorder isn't easy, sometimes you don't know how to react and you're just never in control of your feelings or actions."

"Look Valerie," Nick sat up, "You're a cool girl, even if you're bipolar, that doesn't determine who you really are."

"I'm a psychopath."

Nick smirked, "You're too sweet to be a psycho, I'm psycho, I've done and seen things that I have to live with for the rest of my life."

"I just don't want to go back to the fucking mental hospital, I hate it."

"Why?"

"For starters the employees abuse you, they constantly yell at patients and hit them and some patients are just so awful." Valerie sniffled, "The first night I had ever spent at a mental institution I was 13 and this awful guy who had this skin picking disorder comes into my room, I don't know how he even managed it but he comes in and he touches me, and the more I begged him to stop he becomes more aggressive..."

Valerie stopped speaking, a watery gloss overcame her eyes and she blinked the moisture of her tears clumping her long lashes together.

Sitting up he offered her a sympathetic smile, and it wasn't a fake smile he'd give to almost any girl it was a real smile.

A smile that showed how he was now genuinely concerned about her well being and what she had to say.

But he didn't realize it yet, but it began.

"And one night I just stabbed my pen through his eye because I was sick of it." She continued, now a smile of pride cascading over her lips Nick laughed at her as her smile faded.

"And it's not just because some guy would touch me it's just I can't handle anything that comes to me, I'm a mess." She finished with a sigh.

"You're not a mess. You're you. You're Valerie, and that's better than being anyone else."