Follow The Rain

Thirteen

At this point, I felt as though hospitals followed me around wherever I went. I awoke to find myself in a familiar scratchy bed with the same tubes in my arm and one running up into my nose. It felt almost like a dream; my head was airy and drowsy. I didn't feel tired, instead strangely peaceful in a gentle way.

The room was quiet and there was a steady beeping that seemed as though it was far away and right next to me at the same time. As soon as I came to, everything around me was bright and I knew that I was in a white room. The drowsiness slowly began to wear off and I was engulfed in panic - an unfamiliar feeling for me.

I shifted in the bed and felt around me for something, anything. "It's okay, Kayla, I'm here," came the voice of my dad who had caught one of my flailing hands.

"Why am I here?"
"Never mind about that right now. Just focus on getting better."

I sat up in a panic, causing the beeping next to me to quicken. My dad tried to calm me but I ripped my hand from his. "Why won't you tell me what happened?"

He didn't answer and I was about to try and get up when a second voice stopped me. "Unless you want to faint again, I suggest you lie back down."

I paused and obeyed. The voice belonged to the same doctor who had treated me when I became blind. I sighed loudly and crossed my arms over my chest. "Would you care to explain?" I asked.

The doctor stepped forward and cleared her throat. "You suffered an overdose of oxycodone and your intake of oxygen decreased which caused you to fall into unconsciousness."

"Which means?"

"You took too many of those pills I prescribed you last time you were here. Those pills contain oxycodone which causes problems with breathing and other symptoms like dizziness. You then fainted and your parents found you unconscious and brought you here."

"Specific, I see," I said, leaning back and resting my head against the pillow.

"Symptoms associated with oxycodone can be fatal, Kayla. I suggest you discontinue the use of painkillers for now."

"Kayla, how long have you been using those pills?" my dad asked, a trace of anger in his voice.

"Long enough."

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"If you think I, a teenager, would willingly admit to my parents that I have a fatal addiction then get your head straight."

"Kayla! Don't talk to your father like that," my mom said and I assumed she had just entered the room.

"It's ok, Belinda," my dad contributed and left the bedside.

The conversation ended then. I was disconnected from the heart rate machine but the oxygen tubes remained in my nose and the IV in my arm. I was told I would be going home the next day and would be under strict supervision from my parents. I was left alone after what felt like years and instructed to rest or in other words, do nothing while wishing I were at home.

Time passed slower than ever with the occasional nurse slipping in and checking on me. Each time finding me awake, they would ask if I felt okay. I nodded but really I didn't. It wasn't a headache or dizziness or breathlessness. It wasn't anything physical, no, it was emotional. I wasn't fine and it scared me. I needed to feel nothing - that was the only way to survive. But without the drugs in my system, I fell prey to my own mind.

After I was given lunch which I didn't eat, my mom came in again and told me that Matthew was here to see me. Immediately guilt surged through me - I had pushed him away and still he came to see me. I mentally cursed my emotions for about the millionth time. I'd been numb for so long that I hadn't even noticed.