Almost.

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

 

I was free to leave two weeks after I had woken up. The doctor had explained the details of what had happened. He said that I wasn’t in the right mind but when was I ever? My life was taking a turn for the worst and my parents needed to keep an eye on me, this is the exact words he had said to me. I felt my stomach lurch as he spoke about how easily I could fall into depression.

Conley’s words were etched inside my mind and to focus on what the doctor was saying towards me and about my medication and about my disease was complicated. I felt as if I was jumping from a cliff whenever my eyes shut. The darkness that lingered beneath my eyelids was captivating and I was being drawn in. He hasn’t visited me since that one day that destroyed my insides.

My mom was right next to me, squeezing my hand so tightly it was a scorching purple and blue. The doctor was stationed at the foot of my bed and my father stood at the doorway with Breton standing guard behind him. I haven’t spoken to either of them since I awoke and I had a high chance of never speaking to them ever again. I could feel the intensity of everyone’s stares as they penetrated through my soul and found my inner demon that was fighting to surface and was currently winning.

It was like for once, everyone was seeing the darkness that shadowed over me and the small beam of light that was fighting to stay alive. They could see how hard it was for me to cope and how easy it was for me to make my decision.

I could feel the tightening of my mothers hand upon mine when the doctor placed my prescription pills on the bed side table. My eyes slid over the label. It was a clear, pale orange cylinder with small white ovals lying inside. I could see straight through and the words upon the label were making it hard to speak. I couldn’t get the words out as they were caught in the pit of my throat and my voice had been taken from me.

‘Depression. Garrett, Malina. Seventeen. 5/11/1986. Take one tablet twice a day to relieve pain and to decrease anxiety.’

Was it real? Was that tiny bottle of pills actually sitting effortlessly upon the white table beside me? Was it really a mere inch from my hand? My mother was sobbing erratically, the noise was deafening and the white walls that surrounded me felt as if they were suddenly closing in. They were getting closer towards me and my head was twisted into a world I had begged myself never to enter. The darkest creases of my mind unfolded and I was merely exposed. I was shone in the light and everyone could see I was in the light, I was losing it.

“You can leave today.” Dr.  Michaels had stated. My mother only nodded vigorously. I sat staring at the white closing walls and the clear pill bottle. It felt like a dream. Most of the time I’d thrash awake in a heap of tears and a blanket of sweat I couldn’t shake off. Breton would be a whole illusion, the doctor wouldn’t be real and my parents wouldn’t be staring at me as if I was some broken china doll that could never get fixed. I wished it all away, yet when I opened my eyes, they were still looking at me, staring at me and smiling a sickly sad smile as if they were trying to get me to become happy with the situation.

They had asked if I was okay, I meekly nodded and looked away from their accusing eyes. To be completely honest, I hated the way they asked if everything was okay. Because in this sick, twisted reality that we had to live in, no, I wasn’t okay, I was far from okay. I just felt as if that’s what they wanted hear, they wanted to hear that I was feeling well, that I didn’t feel the need to end it all with a slice of a knife. I just wish I could say that I’m not, that I’m feasting on the words in my head or the voices in my soul. But I’d say I was fine and plaster a huge, fake smile upon my cracked lips, I feel as if the words I say have no meaning. No one cares if it’s the truth, they want to hear what they want.