Behind the Scars

nine...

(I recommend playing sad piano in the background to make the story feel deeper/one of my favorites is "Cold" by Jorge Mendez)

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(But I much prefer "Most Emotional Instrumental Music: Sad Piano Music - Beautiful Piano Songs Playlist Mix Vol. 2" on YouTube, for this chapter)

I wake up to a steady beeping of machines. 

beep    beep    beep    beep

I look to see the pale white walls and machines around a room. I recognize this; because I've seen them through through the glass doors separating me from this part of the hospital. 

The ICU. 

My first instinct is to fight. To fight to get out. Get back to my dad. Fight away from the eyes of others. That's what I do.

I look at my arm to see it connected to many tubes. I gather all the strength I can harvest and yank them out. The pain seems so little. I take one big gulp of oxygen and take off my breathing mask. I slowly pull my legs over the side of the bed, even though my strength is withering and the pain is building. I try to lift myself off the bed, only to end up falling on the cold, hard floor with a groan.

I feel the pain explode throughout my body, but the adrenaline is running higher. I pull myself across the floor, not thinking of a plan, just trying to get to the doors. I'm so determined I don't realize the feet in my vision. The doctors yelling and holding me down. I feel my body thrashing with all of my strength, yelling, coughing, and pulling for the doors. I see the many doctors and nurses faces watching me; few come to help. 

And then I stop......

My lungs hurt. They hurt so bad. I feel like I'm trapped underwater and I can't come for air. My body feels weak. I want my father. I want him so bad. I want the occasional sober happiness and love he gave me when I was younger. The few hugs and smiles I got. The warmth that spread through my chest to see his dimples reappear. I miss feeling like the sun was shining on us, even through the brck and metal walls. I miss my dad.

I don't even realize that they're placing me on the bed. I can see them rushing around me, bustling around the already-crowded-room. 

And I finally notice the blood along the floor. My blood-soaked gown that clings to my skin before they rip it off. 

Despite the hysterics, that's not what t'm most shocked at... I realize the wetness on my face. I reach up to feel water on my fingertips. 

A tear.

I haven't cried in 4 years. I haven't let a single tear slip from my eyes. I don't ever want to break that. I never want to be percieved as the weak girl. I quickly grab my arm away and roughly brush awayt he tears, trying to swallow the pain in my throat. 

Then, I feel warmth. A hug. Something I haven't gotten since I was a young girl.  

Another guy. I don't recognize him but I know he's not a doctor. 

I realize how hard I'm sobbing. How the tears are flowing freely as I trying to wipe viciously at the tears.  

He flashes me a warm smile as everyone hurries to work, pushing him away and out the door, and putting my oxygen mask on again. I'm being rushed away from the room, to someplace else, with eyes watching me as I go. 

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