Back To December

{ Chapter 3 }

The pounding in my head continues for the next few hours. I agreed to stay in bed and rest until I got my strength back. Seeing my dad took most of the energy out of me anyways.

The room I was placed in when I first came here a few days ago, is very small and claustrophobic, but the nurses manage to supply me with the nutrients I need for survival, basically everything. Lacking water, sugar, carbs, calories, protein, fat and other essential growth components, I can't even look at myself in the mirror anymore. The girl I used to know is gone. All I see is a reflection of a rotting corpse, staring right back at me with dead beat black eyes, burning deep into my soul.

The nurse who saved me from my dad last night, Lily, calmly walks into the room holding a tray of food, real food that you'd except to see at a nice holiday with your family.  Gourmet baked chicken with fresh broccoli and homemade mashed potatoes waits on the plate, next to a large bottle of crystal clear water.

"Here you go honey. Eat up, your body could really use it," Lily suggests. "Your health levels are extremely low. If you didn't show up by the end of the week, your body would have shut up completely and you wouldn't make it, sorry to say."

"Thank you Lily, but I'm not hungry right now. Maybe later," I sigh, yawning.

"You're not looking so good Daria," Lily steps across the room and places the back of her hand against my forehead. Her skin feels ice cold. "You're burning up with over a hundred fever. Here, take these pain reliever pills and get some rest. The medicine should help you overnight," Lily worries, handing me a very small tablet and my bottle of water.

I glance at the pill and imagine how my mom took ones like this, up to twenty times a day. I wonder how many it would take to actually stop a persons life, something I still can't stop thinking about. Stalling a bit, I throw the tablet into my mouth and gulp down five big sips of water. I don't feel instant relief but a somewhat feeling of happiness consumes me.

Lily speaks softly, "You'll feel better soon, don't worry. Get some sleep."

I thank her and curl up under the covers of my comfortable reclining bed. If my mother or father were standing in front of me right now, I probably would not make it out of this facility alive.

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The doctor who first found me, laying on the cold, community center tile strolls in around 1:08 in the morning bearing a calm face, awaking me. My eyes are barely open and my muscles feel weak, like I just wrestled non stop with a bear for seven hours.

"Sorry to wake you Miss Knight, I just wanted to see how you're doing. I heard your dad came to see you..... Are you okay?" asks Dr. Matthews politely.

"Yeah I'm okay, nothing to worry about, really. I'm  still a bit shaken up though. The nurse gave me some medicine to help ease the pain."

"Okay just making sure. You'll be able to go home in a few days so rest up."

I shoot him a small grin and sit myself up in bed as soon as he leaves the room, slightly closing the door behind him. His words stick in the back of my mind; you'll be able to go home in a few days.... Home where? Back on the streets where bystanders can watch and laugh at me? Is that how my story is going to end? The questions keep on coming but the answers don't. Thinking about my past experiences and what my future holds makes my blood run cold. Butterflies build in my stomach for an unknown reason, but I don't know why. The overwhelming scared feeling controls the majority of my emotions, not anxiety. I suddenly feel jovial, something I haven't felt since I was a baby who first learned to walk on my own two feet. All the connections and memories that held good times hit me like a strong wave. The worst part of all is not being able to feel like that again.

As minutes pass by, I plan out my next moves like pieces on a chess board. Without notice from nearby roaming staff members, whispering words about someone who I think is me, I very quietly jump out of bed and shuffle up to the closed window. By adding much force, I push the handle bar forward, opening the glass frame to squeeze through the small crack. When my frozen feet hit the surface below, I hurry along the base of the roof, tripping every other step along the way. Jumping down each level is as if it was a giant staircase with rough terrain, especially with no shoes on, and a hospital robe which isn't exactly the most comfortable clothing to navigate around in. Wind blows strongly in my face and through my hair but I keep pulling myself forwards. I think about my friends who I used to hang out with everyday in my old school, all the teachers who knew my home life and didn't go so hard on me for schoolwork, and definitely, being away from my addictive and abusive parents. But giving up is the last of my options at this point. I've made many attempts to stop and let everything go, but not this time. This time I will not stop striving for my goal. And striving harder and harder, could make even the smallest difference, a difference that could possibly change my life forever.