Dead or Destitute (Lams)

Chapter Five

A/N Didn't proofread, so I apologize ahead of time. I'm just so excited to finally have a chapter up! I'm so sorry I've been inactive. I have had crazy amounts of school and I started working at DQ. With all that and my boyfriend and friends, I just haven't had time. I'm sorry. But, without further ado, here's finally a new chapter! Enjoy!

"176, Laurens, John." The final stop before her shift ended. She had told herself repeatedly that it wasn't a shift. Volunteer work should have a different name, or so that's what she believed.

Her thoughts were a bit of a flurry today. She had made her rounds, chatted with everyone. She hadn't even realized she'd skipped lunch. That cut into her shift time but she knew how essential it was that she not skip. It would stress Angelica out more then necessary.

She knocked lightly on the door, greeted by a groggy voice. The words were incoherent but she entered anyway.

The boy in front of her was a disaster. The room smelt of vomit, some probably matted in his soft curls. Wires hung from his wrists like jewelry, needles poking and prodding his paled flesh.

The wave of sympathy hit Eliza first. The nausea came after.

"Uh, John Laurens?" She asked.

He simply batted his long lashes in response.

"I have dinner for you."

She took tiny steps towards his still figure, her feet hardly lifting up off the ground. She grabbed the old tray, replacing it with the new.

This wasn't Eliza's first time seeing someone like this, ill and incapable of basic tasks. It was her first visit with someone who attempted suicide though, and it hit her harder than it should.

This could be me, she thought.

The idea struck her to the bone, making her even more thankful for all the times Angelica had talked her down. This boy in front of her, the one who was probably her same age, he had no one to talk to. No one would convince him to live or that he was worth more than this.

She turned to leave, careful not to knock the tray and spill on her clean turquoise scrubs. She felt his eyes on her as she moved, harsh glare staring into her very being.

As she approached the door, a small voice called out in all the fury it could muster.

"Wait," it called.

He called.

She turned sharply, looking straight into his bloodshot eyes. "Yes?" she mumbled.

"Thank you."

John didn't feel the need to offer a fake smile, or he didn't have the energy to do so. The girl before him was a rush of color, full of life.

She hadn't spoken hardly a word to him, but he wanted to bask in her warmth. He wanted more than anything a friend, and this woman seemed like a great candidate.

Alexander hadn't stopped in to visit him even once, and John was beginning to lose faith in him. He knew not where he stood with Alexander, but it was instilled in his mind that even an acquaintance of such a level would stop in for a visit.

"May I ask you a question?" the woman asked, balancing the tray against her hip.

John nodded slowly, waiting for her inquiry.

She brushed a strand of hair out of her face with her free hand. "Do you have anyone to talk to?"

John felt a small smile form on his lips. The idea that this woman would stay for just a moment longer filled him with an indescribable happiness.

All the other nurses acted as though John was just an experiment. A doll who needed dressed up and fed. No one treated him like a human. He was just another patient.

This woman seemed more real. She wasn't plastic who watched him out of necessity. This woman was genuine.

"Besides the occasional nurses and my pissed dad? Just you."

She sat the tray down altogether, pulling up a chair from out of a corner.

"I'm Eliza," she smiled as she spoke. "I just think it must be so boring in here."

He laughed. "You have no idea. I've counted the ceiling tiles at least ten times."

"And how many are there?"

"Fifty-one." John responded without hesitation. "Five in the closet and twenty-nine in the bathroom. "

Eliza laughed, snorting just the slightest. "You need a book or something."

"Any recommendations? People magazines get repetitive after the fifteenth one."

They both glanced towards a magazine sitting on the little table. "You're not into hot celebrity gossip?"

John shook his head, the conversation stalling for a moment. The pause was long enough to become awkward and John began to wish Eliza would leave.

Noticing the tense atmosphere and wish for a continuation of speech, Eliza spoke once more. "Really, none of the other patients speak with you?"

John winced a little, thinking of Alexander. Hadn't they retained a bond? Hadn't he meant anything to Alexander? He supposed not and that he never had or would.

"It must be awfully lonely here by yourself," Eliza said, not realizing she was adding insult to injury.

"It's like a prison."

Eliza wasn't sure if John was talking about the hospital or his life. John wasn't quite sure which one he meant either.

Eliza rose from her seat, grabbing her tray. "Look, everyone has a friend here, someone to get them through their stay. I'll be your hospital buddy, if you want."

John thought of waving her off, continuing alone, but the hopeful look in her eyes and the genuine happiness in her voice made him oblige.

"I'd like that a lot." He responded, smiling ever so faintly.

Eliza clapped her hands together in success. "Great! I volunteer every Monday and Wednesday. See you in two days."

She began to walk away once more, and once more John called out to her. "Thank you."

She turned around, smiling before turning to leave.

As she left, the door remained open, a hand keeping it from shutting. John couldn't make out the silhouette, but he heard Eliza chatting with him as well.

They exchanged fair wells, as the figure invited himself in.

His arm was hooked up to an IV. His eyes were red and puffy, either from crying or sickness. John wasn't sure which but both was probable.

"Go away!" John yelled, burying his face in his pillow.

The pillow was lifted from his face, Alexander standing over him sadly. "John, we need to talk."