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Mind & Memories

My cold arm was welcomed with a nice warm embrace of a hand, wrapped gently but firm.

Immediately I knew who it was, and for some reason I felt my stomach drop a little.

I turned and our eyes met each others, his eyebrows were raised and his eyes soft. He knew something was wrong, but he seemed scared to ask.

"Everybody here thinks I'm crazy," I murmured.

His once high brows lowered into a confused furrow, and his head tilted the slightest bit to the right.

"Why do you say that, my dear?"

I pulled back from his grasp, and the second I did so he stepped back.

"They think I'm crazy..." I started, letting out a deep sigh before continuing to look back into his dark eyes, "because I ask about you. Whenever I mention your name, it's like everybody is hiding something."

Alan shifted his stance, lifted his arms up into a cross position, and shrugged his shoulders.

"Darling I don't know what you want me to say, they aren't allowed to talk about me."

"You disappear."

He walked back a little into the door frame of the bedroom and shook his head, "Aspen. We have been over this, and the nurses have been over it with you as well. You're on a bloody lot of medication right now. I can't even imagine what you are feeling, especially after your leg surgery. But this has to stop, you cannot-"

"How come my medication is affecting other people? My medication shouldn't determine whether or not the nurses and doctors of this hospital tell me the truth." I think with this point I surprised myself more than Alan, he looked heavily taken aback from it.

"It's not that," Alan once again started, but I sure as hell didn't let him finish. 

"Then what is it?" I yelled, "I'm tired of being treated like I am a psycho! I know what I'm talking about..." My words slowly became more and more distant, losing the strength in my voice, "... Don't I?"

There was a long silence between Alan and I. Nobody dared to speak in fear that the other would start arguing again. 

The other night with Alan was one of the best nights of my life, but now here I am with him.

In a small, small room.

Fighting over the fact that nobody will acknowledge him in the damned hospital.

"You're very tired." He finally spoke.

I let out a dramatic sigh and hoisted myself into the bed from my wheelchair, rolling my eyes in order for him to see how fed up I was. 

"You'll get your answer soon, Aspen. Please do not rush this."

"Rush what?" 

I settled into bed and I looked up to see him, now leaning against the door frame, resting his head against the wood.

"Please," he repeated once again. I could see the pain in his eyes, even though the room was dark I could see a hint of tears in them. 

______

The next morning I sat in bed, once again, bored beyond belief. Ever since being in this hospital, I had always been anxious or nervous. With those two things pulsing throughout my veins, there never was a dull moment.

Now there wasn't any nerves or anxiety, there was an annoyance.

When was I going to get out of here?