Hold My Hand

Chapter 3

Needles, acupuncture, physical therapy. Nothing. No progress. Of course there's no progress, it's only your first time. I tell myself. I was hoping to at least feel the needle being stuck into my thigh but I just sat there watching it sink in. They finally found a doctor who can help with my disability.

I push myself down the corridor towards the elevator and up to my room. I roll into my room and pick up the book I left lying on my bed before I went to the support group. I roll up next to the window and continue to read. My eyes begin to droop and I fall asleep with the cool wind lightly brushing my face.

*****

I wake up in my bed. The room is dark except for the light coming from the moon outside. One of the nurses must have put me in bed. Next to the bed on a tray is my food for the evening, on top of the covered food is a little note.

You looked so peaceful sleeping, I didn't want to wake you. Here is your dinner. Stay strong.
-Hope xxx

I smile at the message inside. Hope is my nurse. She's in her mid twenties and so sweet. She has dark brown hair and green eyes. She's gorgeous. Whenever I need help or just someone to talk to she's there. She knows my life story and I know hers. She's like a sister to me, filling in the place of my biological sister who abandoned me.

I reach for the tray and begin eating. The food here isn't bad. In fact it's better than what I got at home.... That is when they remembered to feed me, which was rare. Even though they treated me like dirt, I still miss them. They are my family. I'll never be able to forget the horrible things they did but I still miss them. I need them. My dad hated me the most, I don't blame him, I think it was the alcohol talking. My sister admired my dad and treated me the way he did. And my mom.... I miss her the most. She never gave up on me but she was scared. The man she once loved would have never harmed her or her family. She tried so hard to stop him and to get him out of his addiction. He would tie her down and beat her. She couldn't call the police because he threatened to shoot me. She promised she'd never let him take my life. Eventually the beatings, yelling, pain and tears became too much for her. She wanted me to go with her but I couldn't. I told her she should go and I'll find her one day.

A few weeks later we received a message from her saying she's fine and in a place where she can be treated because she is no longer the sane woman she used to be. That a mental hospital is where she should be.

The letters came every month or so. I would hide in the corner as my dad read them aloud to my sister. But then the letters stopped.
"She's dead." I heard my dad utter. I cried the nights away. I should have gone with her. I missed her so much. I still do. I don't know why but I feel like she is still alive. Out there somewhere. Waiting for me. I feel a warm tear roll down my cheek. An idea pops into my head. I wipe away the tear and grab a piece of paper off the shelf at the end of my bed. I begin writing a note.