A Change of Heart {h.s.}

5

 

It's the beeping sound that wakes me.

I don't know what day it is, or how long I've been in here, but I know from the noise and the smells and the freezing cold temperature that I'm right back where I started; the fucking hospital.

The sound of feet shuffling all around me make me wonder if my family is here, but I don't bother to open my eyes. I just stay where I'm at, listening to the rhythm of the machines I'm hooked up to. The moment doesn't last, however, because of an all-too-familiar voice that makes my memory come rushing into my mind like a tidal wave.

"Man, for a second I thought I lost you."

My eyes pry themselves open, focusing on the ghostly girl sitting on my bed. Her clothes are the same; jeans and a shirt, with a jacket overtop. I wonder for a second if they will ever chance since, well, she's dead. She looks at me with a relieved smile while I look at her with more confusion than I had the first time we met.

"Lost me?" My eyes narrow instinctively. "Who the hell are you?"

"Marley," she says, pointing to herself. "Remember?"

"Yeah, I got that part," I reply annoyingly. "Why are you here? What the hell do you want from me?"

"Who says I want anything from you?" she asks, lifting her eyebrows as she hops off the hospital bed. "Maybe I don't actually want to be stuck here with you. Maybe I don't have a choice."

 She walks around, looking at the machines I'm attached to before leaning against the wall.

"What do you mean you don't have a choice?" I ask. She looks at me like it should be obvious, but I don't have a fucking clue.

"I already told you." She crosses her arms. "I'm the reason you're here."

"Harry?" My mom's quiet, tired voice enters the room and just like that, Marley disappears. Mom wraps her cardigan around her and tucks her messy hair behind her ears. She looks exactly the same as she did after my surgery; happy, but exhausted and ready to sleep for a week. I blink a few times, trying to seem as normal and sane as possible. Not like someone who was just talking to a fucking ghost.

"Yep," I respond, a tight smile forming on my lips. She sighs, walking over to me and resting her hand on mine. Her hand is cold, and the more I look at it, the more I realize how much she has aged. How much I have aged her.

"You overdid it today," she says, her eyes red and swollen from crying. I hate that my antics made her cry, but I'm slightly relieved to find out that I woke up the same day I arrived at this hell hole. "I'm just glad I decided to come home on my lunch break."

I nod while trying to swallow my guilt as well as think of the last thing I remember before everything happened. I try to shake my mind of Marley, leaning against my piano with an amused smirk on her face, but it's the best and most recent thing I can come up with.

This is all her fault.

"I'm going to take off another week," Mom says, shaking her head. "I knew it was too soon. You need--"

"Mom," I interrupt, placing my hand over hers. "I'll be fine. You said it yourself, I overdid it. I'll just have to be more careful."

I smile my best smile, reassuring her that my mistake won't happen again and I really will try to be more careful. It takes a few moments, but she eventually agrees to continue with work while I stay home alone. Well, almost alone.

Dr. Whitmore wanders in at some point, playfully punching my arm before checking out my chart to make sure I'm good to roam the earth for at least one more day. He rests on his hip and his eyebrows form a V as he studies my endless list of issues. The steady rhythm of the monitors becomes more and more irritating the longer Whitmore flips though the papers. I like the guy, I really do, but Christ Almighty, pick up the pace a little bit.