Let Me Slit My Wrists

Chapter Seven

When I woke up all I saw was white. The scent of medicine and latex filled my nose, making me cringe. I turned my head, looking down at my heavily bandaged wrists. It didn't hurt anymore thankfully. How long had I been out? Who brought me to this hospital? What was happening? My head hurt a little as I sat up, sighing. Did my parents know where I was?
A doctor with red hair walked in. Her hair reminded me of Quinn's. Dammit, stop thinking about loud, poetry girl.
"Gave us quite a scare, Reina." The doctor said, looking over my file on her clipboard. I imagined she used to be popular, because even with all her wrinkles she wasn't that bad looking. And her hair was so vibrant....like Quinn's. "Where were your parents at the time?' She asked, turning her attention toward me. I stated quiet for a moment, my head swimming.
"Dad works a lot." I said slowly, rubbing my thumbs together.
"And your mom?"
I hesitated, "She's...busy."
"Busy." The doctor repeated me softly, setting down her clipboard.
"Are you home alone often, Reina?" She stood over me, a concerned look spread into her hazel eyes. I wasn't sure how I shoulda respond, so I stayed quiet. I didn't want to cause my parents trouble. "You're lucky your brother came home in time. You could've died." Died? But I didn't go that deep. "You knicked a vein. You were bleeding out." She said as if reading my mind. "Your brother is waiting for you outside. I'll send him in." I hadn't seen Lucas in a while, why did he come home today? I waited a bit after the doctor left. I admit, I felt a little anxious.
It had been about 10 minutes since she left, I was wondering what was taking so long, until Lucas finally came in.
"Hey." He greeted, throwing a soda in my lap. I picked it up, reading the label. Orange Fanta. My favorite. He cracked open a root beer, slurping it down as he sat at the edge of the bed. "You've been hurting yourself again." He pointed out the obvious. "Dad said you had stopped and were doing much better." Dad probably didn't want him to worry. I didn't either. I don't like when people worry. But I can't stop. Cutting is my release and I'll probably never stop until I cut too deep.
It was silent for a few moments. It was nauseating to sit in silence with my brother. Probably because it had been silent too long with him...
"Why are you here?" I asked quietly, staring down in my lap, shifting uncomfortably in my position.
"We have a week off for finals so I decided to see how my family's doing. Apparently not so good." He took another sip of his root beer, my soda left unopened. "I'm not gonna commit you, so don't worry." I let out a breath I didn't know I held. I didn't want to go back to that rehab place for "emotionally unstable" teens like me. It was just a bunch of us gathered to tell people why we do what we do. It was unhelpful bullshit. I was relieved Lucas understood me enough not to bring me back.