Anxiety Alley

Hospital (Willow) [Chapter 11]

They had taken me to the hospital in an ambulance. They tried to take out the glass, but I didn't want those monsters touching me. Every time they came at my leg, or my head, with the tweezers, I would kick, or hit them. I screamed, I shouted. These disgusting creatures will not be touching me. I refuse.

Finally, one of the two medics gave up. "If she wants to act like a baby, and not heal, and possibly get an infection, let her."

"About time you got the hint. I thought you guys were idiots for a while there." Then I started to laugh.

For the rest of the ride, they left me alone. I fall asleep.

I wake up, and they have taken out all the glass, and put me in a small room. I feel like I might throw up or start hyperventilating, so I run from the room. I collide with a nurse and she grabs my arm. I gasp loudly. She smiles and drags me into the room. Then she asks my name, I don't tell her. The nurse looses her patience and she takes me by the arm.  

"Jeff," she turns to another nurse standing a couple feet away, "Do you know who this little girl is?" 

"Hey," he bends down slightly to talk to me, "I know this is horrible, to be in a hospital, and I know whatever caused you to come must have been terrifying, but we need to know your name in order to help you." 

"You can't help me now," I whisper, my lip trembling, "It's never going to be the way it was."

"No," he agrees, "It's not. But you can learn to live with it as it is."

I'm quite for a while. I think he's going to get tired of it and walk away, but he stays. 

"Willow," I squeeze my eyes shut, "That's my name. M-my brother was i-in a car accident. We just got here and. . ." I start crying again, and I can't finish.  

"Thank you. That was a good first step. Your mother is unconscious, and we need someone to identify the body. I know this is hard, but do you think you could do it?" He says quietly. 

I nod my head numbly , and walk in the direction of the door he points to. I push open the door, and then I see a doctor on the other side of the room. A table with wheels is next to him. The table is covered by a lumpy sheet. The sheet is only lumpy for half of the table. The other half is flat. Like my chest. Just... nothing there. The doctor looks at me. He is glaring. What a bit- never mind. Forget that. He speaks to me. He throws the sheet from the table. My brother's scarred, mangled body, without his legs, I gag. I scream. I scream his name. I run to him. After a few steps, I stumble back, and clutch my head. I ran into something. Glass. A glass wall. I turn and run from the room. No way I can stay there. It hurts to much. As I run from the room, I hear the doctor ask me something. So is he a relative? What's his last name?

I need to call Ben. He's going to worry about why I didn't call him. I pull out my phone, What did he say his number was? I might actually have it in my phone. I scroll through trying to find the contacts thing on my phone. The only thing I ever do with my phone is listen to music. I don't really call people. I hit the call button, flip my hair off my shoulders, and put the phone to my ear. After a few rings I hear a breathless 'yes' in my ear. Should I just tell him the full truth, or leave out the painful parts? All of it.

"I won't be coming tonight Ben. We were driving and it- S-so much blood. There was glass everywhere. Everywhere. My brother's dead, and right now, I can't help but wish it was me."

I hear some noise in the back ground, but I feel terrible. I hang up, and fall to the floor as everything goes black.

Rubbing sleep and a pounding headache away, I sit up in bed. Bed! If I'm home in bed the the accident wasn't real and this whole horrible day never happened! But, if I'm home in bed, why are these sheets so stiff, why are these walls white? Why is there a steady beep in my ear, and a machine to match it?

I feel a wet trickle run down my face, and I reach up to wipe it off. When my hand comes back red with blood that leaked from the bandage on my head, my laughter turns to an appalled gasp. It was all real. Every last bit of it.

Tears mixing with the blood, my head thuds back down to the pillow. I don't try to fight sleep as it takes me away from this horrible reality.

I can't help but hope that when I wake up again, it'll be in a silver-lined coffin, under a blanket of roses.