Flickering Shadows

Unwanted Visitor (Chapter 10)

UNWANTED VISITOR

           Every once in a while someone comes up with a good activity to do in the ward.  Of course, something always went wrong and it never happened again.  Staff tried almost everything to unite us, despite our disabilities.  This month's presumed fail activity: Monthly Movie Marathons.  They were showing Harry Potter 1 & 2 on Friday.  I would love to know who talked them into that.

           Also, there was a giant white, glittery poster with the words 'BMHH Winter Wonderland Prom '10. June 1st, 7-12' written in silver sequins.  I realized that I would miss my own prom-not that I would have gone.  But even if I wanted to go, that chance is gone. It depressed me a little that my life was speeding by so quickly; I realized all the experiences I never got to have. There were only two months until then, and just over two months until my graduation. 

           In a way, I was glad to be graduating.  I would be an adult and go on to college.  But then I'd be alone; I doubted any man would come and sweep me off my feet anytime soon, if ever.  It wasn't that I couldn't be fine on my own.  I took care of myself practically my whole life.  I thought it'd be nice to be taken care of for once.  What man wants a damaged, psychotic girl though?

           I was thinking about all this when I was buzzed in the infirmary.  Dr. Rosenberg let me go early after he checked my stitches one last time.  He urged me to be careful and to quickly get to Dr. Howard's office.

           Every nurse and doctor that passed me gave me a nervous glance.  They all seemed to know something that I did not, and that bugged me.

           Dr. Howard herself looked worried and unsure.  It did not ease the bad feeling I had in my gut.  "So, Lucy..." she murmured, looking distant.

           "Who's wrong?" I interrupted her.

           Dr. Howard looked unsurprised by my outburst, and went on as if I had never spoken.  "How did you get hurt?"

           Dr. Howard eyed my head and bandaged hand suspiciously.  "I-I hit my head on the shower head." I tried to calm my wavering voice.

           "Lucy, you'd have to of had a small stood, and jump off of it to hit your head on that.  I'm not stupid, Miss Arnold." She said with an irritated and stern expression.  "Tell me the truth, now."

           I sighed as though I surrendered.  "Alright, I'll tell you." I looked down at my desk, embarrassed.  "I fell down in the shower and cut my hand on a loose tile.  Then I quickly rushed out to stop the bleeding, and I slipped and fell, hitting my head on the side of the sink."

           "Why didn't you just tell me that?" Dr. Howard demanded.

           "I thought it would be less embarrassing if I lied-I'm so sorry."  I could not believe that she actually believed me. My new story was hardly more believable than the first. All the tiles were super smooth and impossible to pry up and cut yourself on without the proper tools.

           "It's alright." Dr. Howard sighed.  "How are you feeling?"

           "Physically or emotionally?"

           "Either or."

           "My head still burns.  But I'm feeling good-a little confused." I said.

           "Why?"

           I gave her an annoyed look; she knew quite well what I was talking about.  "Why don't you tell me? Tell me why everyone in the hospital is acting so weird towards me. They're all giving me looks like they know something I don't, and it's really bad."

           "Hmm," she grunted.

           At this point I was beyond irritated-I was enraged.  Something was going on and no one would tell me, not even my one psychiatrist.  Something inside me snapped, and I jumped up from my chair and screamed "Just tell me!" with a few colorful words mixed in.  I must have looked quite menacing, because Dr. Howard was cowering away from me. 

           "You wanted to know!" she said in a shaky voice.  "Your sister called. She will be coming here this afternoon!"

I was in shock for a few hours after that.  I hadn't seen Camille since the day of the fire, which was nearly four months ago.  I had no interest in seeing her either.  I could not fathom why she would want to visit me.  "Why couldn't she just die?" I grumbled to myself. It was a macabre thought that I wished could be true.

           At three o'clock I was dragged-literally-into the visiting room.  I put up a fight the whole way, screaming and cursing.  There isn't a doubt in my mind that the entire floor didn't hear me.  At the door, I saw Dylan leaving.  "Hey," I said angrily. "What were you doing in there?"

           "Oh, um," he seemed to have to think for a moment.  "I was supposed to visit with my cousin, but he didn't show."

           "I'm sorry." I frowned at him sympathetically.

           "Good luck," he gestured toward the door. "Catch you later."

           I grimaced and put up one great, last fight before being shoved into the room.  I regained my balance and slid into the corner of the room. I sat down and wrapped my arms around my knees.  "Hello, Lucille," said a happy voice from the desk in the middle of the room.  I did not respond' this wasn't the sister I knew.  I doubted four months in the hospital had changed her. This was all and act, I was sure of it.  "Lucille," Camille said.  "Come, sit down with me."

           I didn't speak, I didn't move. I didn't want to hear her; her voice, even as faked as it was, brought back the terror.  I could hardly breathe and my heart was beating a hundred miles an hour in my chest.

           "Fine, I'll go over there." She sniffed.  I heard her chair scrape back and her heels clack against the tile floor over to wear I sat.  "I came all the way out here to see you, and this is how you treat me? You won't even look at your sister."

           Camille's voice was turning into the harsh, cold bark that I remembered so clearly.  She leaned down and snatched my chin in her fragile, yet strong, hands.  She forced my face upward and I whimpered in pain.  "Look at me!" she yelled.

           I glanced upward for a brief moment, and immediately looked away.  Every inch of her face was covered in hideous burn scars.  Her hair was only just growing back.  "Look at what you have done!"

           I hid my face with my hands.  "That's right, hide! You're such a coward, you always were.  You got what was coming to you-you deserved it all.  The things I would love to do to you...pay you back for what you've done to me.  Why don't you just go kill yourself, save me the trouble of doing it myself, you insolent, insignificant-"

           That is when the horrible screams starting ripping from my chests, and echoed in the halls for hours after.