Terminally Hopeful

Chapter 1

I opened my eyes to a bright light. My mind didn't process anything as my foster mom, Jane Heister slammed me into a big hug.

    "You're okay!" she cried.

    "What's going on," I wondered out loud.

    Tears filled her eyes as she looked me straight in the eyes and said, "You attempted suicide."

    With that, my brain finally processed what was going on and my eyes widened. I had jumped off a cliff. But that wasn't what threw me off. I survived. But I didn't want to survive. I failed again, like I fail everything else. Avoiding eye contact with Jane, I lightly apologized to her.

    "I'm sorry."

    She just sighed and told me that she's going to go pick up my foster brother, Wyatt.

    I sat in silence, pondering my thoughts. Why am I so calm when I almost succeeded in committing suicide? Should I be glad that I'm alive? Why am I not crying? Jane must be really disappointed in me. My silent interview was interrupted by a creak in the door.

    My head whipped around and I groaned in pain. It was then that I noticed the needle connected to a bag stuck in my arm. I saw the casts on both of my legs and internally groaned again. So I'm useless. If I survived for some reason, can't my legs be in tact at leas—

    "Hi."

    This time I actually looked to my left and saw a boy in probably his teens dressed in a hospital gown.

   "Um. Hey."

    He walked towards me and read my name from the plate in front of my bed.

    "Why are you here, Sadie Brennel?" questioned the boy.

    "I have my reasons. Why are you here?" I questioned back, confused at the sudden person coming into my room.

    "I have my reasons," said the boy. "Can I sit here?"

    I nodded and proceeded to ask his name.

    He then replied, "Connor Briggs."

    For a moment, everything was silent. Then I smiled and looked up at him. I was bored and he seemed like a nice dude to hang around with. If I was gonna be here for a while, I might as well make a friend. It's kind of using him, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

"Hey, I'm Sadie, but you already know that," I said stupidly. "Did you need anything?"

    "So, I have this music box I'm making right now and I was wondering if you would help me?" asked Connor.

    "Yeah, sure. Bring it over," I told him.

    He went out of the room and returned a minute after with a small box with tools and confusing parts inside.

    The notes weren't that difficult to make since all I needed to do was cut the strips of metal to where I needed it, but I gave every note, every cut, every inch of my attention.

    "How long have you been in this hospital?" I asked.

    He thought for a moment, then said, "I don't know, but a while. I'm kind of sick. Like, very sick. I'm staying in the room right next to yours actually. Room 364. You're staying in 365. I just thought you should know."

    This got me thinking about why he was here. Physically, he seemed perfectly normal. There wasn't a scratch visible on his body. What could be wrong? But he respected my privacy and I should respect his. Connor was the type of person that seemed very carefree. He took the peculiar looking metal piece of the music box away from me, claiming that it's only exciting when it's done day by day.

    "I'm a junior at Berkley High. I don't usually go because I'm here all the time, really. Where do you go?" Connor asked.

    "I'm a junior too at Lawoly High. I don't particularly enjoy school so I skip sometimes," I admitted.

    He only nodded and smiled. I really didn't like school. Since I was kind of a negative and quiet person, it was difficult for me to make friends. I always struggled with making new friends.

    My mother used to tell me that making new friends was like ordering ice cream from the ice cream truck. Excited to catch the opportunity, easy to miss, but if successful, leaves me happy afterwards. But I could never connect. I hated change. Anything related to change stressed me out and I couldn't bear it when my mom died.

    Jane really was a great foster mom but calling her "mother" felt like I was betraying my own mother. Mark, my foster dad was great too, along with Wyatt, but I would never get along to calling him my actual father.

    I guess I was silent for quite a while because Connor was waving his hand in front of my face when I snapped back into reality.

    "Do you wanna be friends?" he asked with a sheepish grin.

    I nodded thought about what he just asked me. I don't have guy friends. Actually, I don't have any friends currently. Why couldn't I be like other girls? Maybe if I was nice, he would enjoy my company a little more then and stay for longer. Connor didn't act like he didn't like me so far, but I wouldn't know, I just met him after all.

    "Connor?"

    "Hm?"

    "What type of person are you? I feel like if I'm gonna be stuck with you for a while, I might as well get to know you better," I said.

    "Well, I like reading, basketball, and I like to think optimistically," Connor said.

    I turned my head away from him. He was a positive person. Positive people don't get along well with negative people like me. And he needed to know why I was here before he decided to hang out with me.

    "Suicide."

    "What?" he asked, confused with my randomness.

    "Suicide. You asked why I was here. I tried to kill myself. That's why I'm here," I muttered. That should give him a clue.

    "Oh. Cool."

    I narrowed my eyes at him. I just told him that I nearly ended my own life and he says cool? Is he serious? I decided to shrug it off.

    "Aren't you going to ask me why I tried to kill myself?" I quietly asked.

    "No. If you wanted me to know, you would tell me yourself," he replied back.

    I turned my face away from him to cover my red cheeks. He was only looking out for my privacy, but I felt like I had been rejected. What a teenage girl feeling. A stupid feeling.

    "I think I hear your mom coming. See you later, Brennel," Connor smirked.

    "Bye," I whispered.

    He was right. A few seconds later, Jane came into my room with Wyatt holding onto her left arm.

    "Sadie! I missed you so much!" Wyatt yelled.

    Wyatt was my favorite 6 year old. He was the typical first grader. Obsessed with toy cars and those metal scooter things that hurt like hell when they hit your ankle. But I love him, and I wouldn't ask for a different younger brother.

    "Sadie, why do you have hard, long socks on? How are you going to try out for the circus if you can't move your legs?" Wyatt asked.

    "Wyatt, leave Sadie alone," Jane ordered. "She's hurt."

    At first I was confused, but shrugged it off and gave Wyatt a slight nod to his worried face to reassure him that I was fine.

    "Well, you'll be okay, right?" he asked me.

I just stared at him.