the fall • s.m.

50 • stitches

// shawn mendes //

@margotkatefranklin: healing🙏🏼

• • •
one day post surgery

"She's awake!"

Margot gave me a look that said don't push it before closing her eyes again, pulling her blanket up to her chin and snuggling up again.

"I'm not awake. I never was. You saw nothing," she warned, her eyes still closed, and I grinned.

"How ya feeling?" I asked her, ignoring her warning. She slowly pulled up her t-shirt a bit, actually, my t-shirt that had basically become hers a long time ago, to reveal a series of bandages and other things that were holding her together right now. She looked at it for a moment, then put her shirt down again, and sighed.

"As good as you can feel after having someone literally remove an organ from your weak, weak body," she answered, readjusting herself in her hospital bed. I couldn't help but smile.

"They couldn't take the attitude out too?"

Margot's mother smiled as she walked into the room, and Margot rolled her eyes.

"No, Mom. The attitude is here to stay," she answered firmly. Then she looked at me. "This is why we were going to act like I never woke up."

I shrugged. "Oops."

"How are you feeling, honey?" Ms. Franklin asked her daughter, walking up to Margot's bedside and brushing her hair back. Margot turned her back to both of us.

"I'm fine, everyone. I'm just fine," she said, the annoyance and frustration obvious in her
voice. Ms. Franklin gave me a look.

"I think she was happier before I came in. Keep her company," she told me, putting a hand on my shoulder. I nodded, and she left.

"Is she gone?" Margot's quiet voice asked after a moment.

"Yeah," I told her, and she rolled over to face me again. "Good," she said with a sigh.

"No offense, but why are you being such a brat to her?" I asked her, and she chuckled. Her hand reached for her wound and her laughter stopped.

"I'm just not in the mood to have to deal with people, especially ones who want to ask me questions. Even my mom. I just want to go through the motions here in this stupid hospital bed and count down the minutes until I get to go home," she told me, and she stared up at the ceiling.

I understood what she was saying. Sitting in this bland hospital room for days on end just got dull. Luckily, I had the one person I liked talking to most in this room with me. But when she was in the hospital, she was usually in a pissed off at the whole world kind of mood, making her a bit hard to pry a meaningful conversation out of. But it's ok, because she's going through a lot right now and I totally get that. Plus, sometimes there's really amazing moments that make the less-than-amazing ones sort of fade away.

"I know this sucks, Margot," I told her. There's no point in acting like it didn't. She knows it, I know it, her parents know it, the doctors know it. This is the worst. Seeing her like this is the worst.

"It sucks so much," she said, shaking her head.

I put my hand on her arm and she finally looked at me. I mean, actually looked at me. Like she cared.

"Hey," I told her, and she put her other hand over mine, looking at me as if she was hanging on to every syllable. "You're going to be alright. Keep your head up."