what would i do

C H A P T E R 6:

" B u t s t a y w i t h m e a
m i n u t e , I s w e a r I ' l l
m a k e i t w o r t h i t . "

Her eyes fluttered open to the sound of a machine beeping. She groaned in annoyance, slowly bringing herself upright against the wall.

Veretta scanned her surroundings, realising that she was not in her own room, and instead, was in a hospital ward. Before she could get out of bed, she felt a searing pain assault her hip. Specifically, her right hip bone area.

"Ah..." She muttered under her breath as the excruciating pain dug into her skin. A type of liquid medication was applied to ease the itch and speed up the time needed for recovery of her wounds. However, it only brought her more agony as she moved.

Veretta knew that she could only put herself to blame. After all, she was the one who bought the penknife, and she was the one who used it on herself.

"Why am I here...?" She asked herself, alas able to get off the bed. Veretta felt something tug against her forehand and realised that she was attached to a drip. How long was I out?

At that given moment, the door slid open and a doctor came in, along with his nurse. "Miss Rose, please lie on the bed. We need to do a health check up for you." He requested.

Obeying his instruction, Veretta did as told. She stared at the ceiling as he did his basic checks. "Doctor, can you tell me why I'm here and not in school, or at home, and how long, exactly, have I been here?" She asked, worried.

"Oh, you had fainted and your teacher sent you here as you did not regain consciousness. It has been five hours, it's now noon." The doctor then went on to tell Veretta more about why she was feeling how she was.

Anemia. Is that really the only reason, or is there something that they're not telling me? Veretta asked herself when the doctor left her to rest up a little more and settle the arrangements for her discharge from the hospital.

"No... there's something else, and it feels extremely important." She told herself. Why else would I have been so grieved as to self harm?

Veretta picked up her mobile phone from the nightstand and scrolled her messages. She then came across her conversation with Lycon, and every single memory came back. On the top of her notifications bar, she noticed that she had received a message from Lycon's mother. Her blood went cold.

...

"Dear Veretta, I am sorry to inform you that Lycon has passed away as she had met with an accident. If you, and or your friends, schoolmates, wish to attend, her funeral will be held this Saturday. The venue information will be given on a later date. I have also notified one of your friends of this matter. On the day itself, we will read out a letter she had left behind, she has some items to give to some of you.

-Mrs Glacier."

...

The anemic fifteen year old had been discharged and she was currently in the supposed comfort of her home.

Contrary to what other people think, contrary to the societal norms of our reality, it did not feel comfortable.

She was freezing cold, and the only person who could warm her up in the way that she needed it was gone. That girl was never coming back, she could not, and the fact alone made Veretta feel more isolated than before.

Veretta struggled to cope with the reality. She felt herself sinking deeper into an abyss of eternal darkness. The initial inability to acknowledge the loss had become better, in the sense that now she say that her love was not with them in this world anymore. Yet, her condition itself only got worse.

She had become angry. However, not with Lycon. Veretta was angry at, and with, herself and only herself.

"If I did this... you might have stayed for me. If I tried to do this... you could have anchored yourself. If I didn't say that... you may have-" The list went on a vicious, continuous cycle, as Veretta kept blaming herself over and over.

Did I not dote on you enough, or was I too weak to support you? She had to constantly question to keep herself mentally stable, but she restarted her waterfall of tears in the process.

"Why did you have to leave me, no- leave us, so soon?" Veretta asked with brokenness in her voice, which was a reflection of how shattered her heart felt. She broke into a fit of sobs.

Why?

Veretta locked the door of her room. She was breaking a basic house rule, but did she even care anymore?

No, she did not.

Replacing her typical stuffed animal with a glass vase, with all her anguish, she took it and smashed it to millions of fragments on the floor nearest to the entrance. Not like it mattered to anyone who tried to enter, since she had locked it closed anyway.

Veretta slumped to the floor, and wept. Over and over again, she wept in hopes that her bitterness would just disappear if she just cried it away, but it did not. Internally, she knew better. It could not, and it would not.

The older slits on her hip had healed and eased into scars, scars which had yet to fade. She smiled sadly as she was well aware of their presence.

With the same penknife in her hand, she went over the scars over and over again. Surely it was more than she did before, for she lost count of the fresh cuts that were made.

No cleaning, no medicine. Applying a mere plaster, which was definitely too small to cover most of the open areas, Veretta then put on her garments and sat on the cold, hard floor.

She did not sob, for she could make no sound. Yet she shed her cold tears nonetheless. Veretta stared blankly at the door as emptiness seeped into her veins, like how warm blood that bled from her wounds soaked through her clothing. But did she care?

She could not be bothered.

Veretta cleaned up the mess she left by her bare hands, spending the next hour picking up the millions of glass pieces. Even if it hurt her, even if she bled, she continued to do so, for she welcomed the pain.

Anything to get her mind of trauma or emotional distress, she encouraged it. That included the means of inflicting physical pain, exhaustion by crying and some other unhealthy methods like skipping a meal or self harm.

It helped her, in a way.

The outside weather had gone crazy- haywire. Strong and vigorous winds blew, the sky was as dim as it would be at midnight and it started pouring heavy rain. It was as though the sky was mourning with Veretta.

It was if Lycon was mourning with Veretta from heaven, ironically, over her own death. As though she was still somewhere out there in the world.

It gave Veretta a form of bitter sweet comfort. She remembered something that Lycon told her a week before.

"Even when I'm no longer alive, I'll still love you. I'll always be rooting for you, love." Lycon assured with a smile.

Veretta took a deep breath, "It hurts... love. It hurts so much..."

...

"I know I should've fought it..."

But she knew that she could not.

" C a u s e I d o n ' t w a n t
t o b e w i t h o u t y o u . "