A Change of Heart {h.s.}

7

The soft, elegant melody that my fingers have brought to life puts me in a trance. I see nothing but music notes around me, demanding my attention as I press down on every key as fluently as I can. When I close my eyes, I'm back on that stage in front of everyone I know. My mom cries in the front row as my dad holds her, nodding at me in approval. Dr. Whitmore is there, smiling up at me, his most recent surgical masterpiece. Hell, even Aaron Fucking Samson is there, and if I'm not mistaken, I think I spot a tear running down his cheek.

When Marley shows up in my daydream, however, I snap out of things, sucking in a deep breath as she appears, sprawled across the top of my piano like some risqué singer at a speakeasy.

"That was beautiful," she says with a  cheeky grin, finding amusement in my miniature heart attack. She seems to forget about the fact that her antics made me go to the hospital fucking yesterday. "You're really good."

"Can you stop doing that?" I spin on the bench and use it for support as I stand up and make my way back to bed, somehow stiff from sitting upright for only a few minutes. I feel like an old man as I walk; shoulders slouched over as I keep one hand on the bed and another on my chest. My feet brush along the carpeting because my feet are barely leaving the ground and I can actually hear my joints creaking as they move. All I need is a walker and a Mr. Rogers cardigan and I'll be all set. Marley seems to pick up on the same thing because her ghostly laugh echoes all around me.

"Stop doing what? And by the way, if you ever want to impress a girl, I'd say your current state will do the trick."

"Hilarious," I groan, throwing myself onto my mattress. "And stop doing things that will send me back to the hospital."

"I'm just sitting here," she smirks, her see-through head resting on her hand.

"Yeah, well, stop doing that." I shimmy myself under the covers and rest my head on the pillow.

"If I'm not mistaken," she begins, swinging her legs to the front of my piano before jumping down, "I could've swore I saw you shuffling around the house a few minutes ago, looking for me. Seems like you want me around a little bit."

"Don't flatter yourself. I just felt bad for pissing you off." I can feel the scar on my chest aching from underneath my shirt. I know I've been pushing it today, and I mentally pray that my mom hasn't set up hidden cameras throughout the house. Seeing me walk up those stairs would've been enough to give her a heart attack.

Oh, the irony.

"Wait, what?" Marley stops in her tracks, looking surprised. She dramatically places her hand on her chest and lets her jaw drop.

"What?" I respond with an attitude. Always with an attitude.

"Did you just say you...felt bad?" I can hear the amusement in her tone. She doesn't think someone like me is capable of empathy. Which I'm not...most of the time.

"Yes. And don't make me take it back."

She chuckles quietly to herself before we both sit in silence for a while. As annoying and frustrating as this girl seems to be, it is kind of nice to not deal with the quiet alone, even if she's a figment of my imagination and all this does is give confirmation that I'm going absolutely insane. 

"So are you going to accept my help?" Marley asks as she stands at the foot of my bed with her arms crossed. I don't know what she expects me to say. Sure, the idea of getting out of this bed and going for a jog sounds fucking awesome, but a reality like that is light-years away. I can see easy it would be for someone like her to think that living a regular life is that simple, but it isn't. Not with the issues I've been given. Never was, never will be.