Demented

Freddy Krueger Got Me

   Frank woke up at ten o'clock a.m. He pushed the blue covers down. He was confused at first, realizing that these blankets differed from the ones he slept with. Frank looked around, seeing he was hooked up to some machines.

Oh.

He tried to kill himself.

Frank's memory came flooding back in. He woke out of a light coma yesterday. Dr. Ottoson avoided questions he asked about his family. He only knew they were informed about his condition. Gerard came and held him. Gerard came. Not his parents. Gerard came. Gerard came. Gerard came. Gerard came. Gerard came. Gerard came. Gerard came. Gerard came. Gerard came. Gerard came. That's all that mattered.

He felt pretty weak. He adjusted the bandages that covered his arms. Frank spotted a red button. In the white above it, it said, 'PUSH FOR ASSISTANCE'. So he did.

In a minute, Dr. Ottoson appeared. "Good morning. How are you feeling?"

"I'm kind of tired."

"Coma and bedridden will do that to you. Let's change your arms." He gathered some things from a table. Once seated at the end of the hospital bed, he lightly took Frank's right arm.

Frank remembered him doing this yesterday. When he looked at his arms, he saw a horrible scene so he quickly looked away. He wasn't going to be a coward this time. Frank was going to see all of it.

Dr. Ottoson unwrapped the bandage. Frank didn't look down. He grabbed his left arm and did the same to it.

"I have to make sure you're getting no infections. They're really wide and deep," the doctor explained, moving his wrists around. Frank held his breath and looked at his arms. They were filled with cuts so horrible, it made him sick to his stomach. The surrounding area was more red than Satan's kingdom. What if scar cream couldn't fix this? It looked like a scene straight out of a Wes Craven film. It was as if Freddy Krueger himself did this to Frank. "There's nothing," Dr. Ottoson informed in, then seeing the shock on his face.

He picked up a cottonball and dipped it into a black jar. He slowly patted it up and down Frank's arms. It stung. After getting the strange liquid everywhere, Dr. Ottoson started re-wrapping his arms.

"Would you like anything for breakfast?"

"Cereal. Lucky Charms."

"Ok. I'll go get you it. Milk?"

"Mm-hm."

Dr. Ottoson nodded and left.

Frank groaned into a pillow. He wished he would've fucking died.

"If you didn't make it, you would've never been able to feel it again."

That's true. I want to be held by Gerard for eternity. Gerard cares. He cares about me. Unlike some people. Some people just say they care and then leave you to the care of babysitters, nannies, and therapists. They'll completely ignore your entire existence until you try to murder yourself. Then, after that, they'll forget you again, causing more pain. Shouldn't they try to change their ways to improve the damage they've caused? They certainly didn't think so, seeing their actions. They'd rather work. They will barely do anything. They'll give you pills, hoping that's all you need. They get therapists to speak to you, but they don't understand. Lots just want money. The therapists can't hold you and say they'll protect you. You don't want- need their attention. You need your parents. You need them, not other people. When they finally realize you need a lot of help, they'll drop you off and disappear. Even when...even when...you're in a coma after doing the thing that landed you in here. I know they're not coming. They're not going to. Never.

Frank saw Dr. Ottoson at the door. He gave him the cereal, a spoon, and a small carton of milk. He smiled and said goodbye. Frank pulled the cover off of the cereal container. He opened the carton and poured it into the cereal. He sat the remaining on the table.

He ate quietly. Quietly, yet crying.