Lift // Hamliza

• chapter 38 •

• Alexander •

I opened my eyes and sighed, feeling pain wash over me immediately. Remembering that I'm still in the hospital, I slowly sit up and use the remote to make the bed move up more. I look around and notice that Eliza isn't in the bed anymore, and I'm the only one in the room.

For a few minutes, I simply sit in the quiet and rub my pounding head. I become acutely, uncomfortably aware of all my surroundings. The consistent, soft beep of all the machines connected to me, the buzz of the bright lights. The itchiness of the bandages on my arms. I stare at the spotted floor until the dot pattern dances around, and then I finally hear footsteps coming closer and the door swings open.

Eliza walked into the room, holding a coffee and two waters, and a few muffins and breakfast sandwiches. She jumps a little after she silently shuts the door and realizes that I'm already awake. She lets out a tired sigh and smiles at me, pulling the chair next to the bed and sitting down, placing the food and beverages on the bedside table.

"How are you feeling? Do you remember talking last night?" She asks, handing me a bottle of water, which I gratefully accept. I think back and only recall a few dim moments of our conversation, so I nod my head yes and assume my little knowledge of what actually happened will help me. She nodded back.

There's a tension in the room that doesn't usually surround her and I. But that's always what it's like in hospitals.

The more I think about physically being in a hospital, the more I wish I wasn't here. I focus on the coolness of the water on my tongue instead, and mindlessly listen to Eliza speaking. I don't know what she's talking about anymore, but quite frankly, I don't think she does either.

"But anyways, a few people are visiting today. Dad and Angelica, John, Herc and Laf, and Peggy's coming back." She said. I forgot Peggy was here. I only saw her for a minute or so yesterday before falling asleep.

I don't know how I feel about visitors. I'm still so tired, and doing almost anything causes pain. But I can't just say that they can't come see me. That would be rude, and they're my family. So I'd endure it, if not for myself but to give them a sense of peace. They did need to know I'm okay, after all.

I took a deep breath as Eliza handed me a muffin, trying to breathe in the scent of the food and not the plastic-y, over cleaned hospital smell. Eliza took my hand as I did so.

"Hey. Are you holding up okay? I know you don't exactly love hospitals..." she said. I laughed humorlessly in response.

"I guess. I mean, how good can you be when you're hospitalized? I don't know. I just feel so stupid about this whole thing." It's true. I feel like a total idiot.

You know how anger has two sort of sides to it? There's that sobbing, painful anger and then there's the apathetic and almost unforgiving anger, but there's no tears, no painful sobbing. Just fire like anger. That's what I feel about this. But not at Eliza, no. At myself. How could I be so fucking stupid as to cut when she could help me with it and lie about the whole thing and end up in a goddamn hospital? I brought this on myself.

I laughed again, staring at the ceiling. The worst part about this whole situation is that I still want to throw it all away. I want to cut. I want to fucking die.

And I can't even do that. First off, because Eliza would be alone and I can't do that to her, or our friends. Second off, because of this whole thing. Honestly, this was all just a shitty suicide attempt in disguise. I didn't even know that myself until just now, but it's true. I kept cutting in secret because I just wanted to let go. I was selfish, and I didn't care.

Shakily, I drew in a breath and I snapped out of my thoughts. I need to tell Eliza this. She deserves to know. And I assume the doctors need to know too.

After explaining the whole thing to her, she rubs her face harshly and just nods, tears welling in her eyes and she walked out wordlessly to go talk to a doctor, I assume.

I restart my previous process of over focusing on everything until someone comes back for me. Instead of it being my friends or Eliza, it's a doctor.

"Alexander, how are you feeling today, from 1 to 10? With 10 being the absolute worst." He asks me. His name tag read Dr. Hosack.

"Um, maybe a 7?" I said, suddenly uncomfortable with the introduction of a new person, and having the anxiety of my whole situation catch up with me.

"Alright. So, your girlfriend told us a few things a couple of minutes ago, which we will discuss later. But for now, we're going to focus on what she told us yesterday. You have a lot of nausea and headaches, correct? How long has that all been happening?" He asks, clicking a pen and holding up his clipboard.

"Yeah... the past couple of months maybe? Probably for three or four months. I keep getting these migraines for no reason. And I'm nauseous a lot too. Sometimes, I get really lightheaded too, so it's hard to stand I guess? But I sort of hide it all pretty well. I don't voice my pain all that often..." I fidget with my hands as I reveal the truth. He nods and scribbles something down.

"A few more questions. Do you have any trouble concentrating sometimes? And do you ever feel pins and needles sensations for no reason?" He asks. I nod, definitely knowing the concentration one is something I've had to work with. Pins and needles not so much, but there were a few times I distinctly remember having them for no reason.

"Ok, thanks. So we're going to run a CT scan and an MRI to make sure all is well in your brain, especially with that recent concussion of yours. Now, onto the other subject matter..." Dr. Hosack said, pulling the chair over and sitting down.

"I understand you have a bad past, yes?" He asks. I nod and he looks at me sadly.

"Do you honestly want to not be alive anymore?" He says softly.

"Sometimes." I hear my voice crack slightly as I tell him this. He asks me to explain and I do. I tell him about my past and how everything can be so much to handle and how I feel so worthless. I tell him that I know I have a support outlet but I don't want to bother anyone.

"Alexander, you have some very deep mental wounds, and I am so, so sorry that someone as young as you has to deal with all this. I'm going to send you, when you get out of here for your physical wounds, to our teens branch. Over there they have a section where they can help you. They can provide therapy, medication and all that, okay? But, you're going to have to stay there for about three weeks. I know that's a long time, but we can get all your schoolwork and you will be allowed visitation. Everything else, we'll explain when the time comes, alright? And this all could change if something changes or happens." He tells me. It's a lot of information at once. It's hard to process, another 3 weeks here? But I know it's for the best. That doesn't mean I want to go, but I kind of have to.

All I do is nod in response. He smiles and helps me up.

"Let's go get those scans out of the way, alright? Then you can see your friends!" He says in that over- cheerful doctor voice. I fake a laugh and go with it, not knowing that my life was about to take a major turn within the next few hours.