Every Waking Moment

3

I remember waking up in the hospital, surrounded by family, but the only loved one I wanted to see was you. I felt deflated. The darkness that greeted me seemed to replace the flame. All I could think of, while being force-fed numerous medications I didn't know the names of, was when I was going to see you next.

    They transported me to a facility where they said I would be safe. Where I couldn't meet death like I had originally planned to. Once I was there I felt trapped, I screamed and cried. I wanted to leave and go home, stay in your arms and feel safe. I felt so exposed, but what I wanted wasn't an option. So I buried my face in books, ignoring my unfamiliar surroundings. They weren't important. I spent hours staring at the phone on the wall, waiting for someone to answer it and say that it was for me, that it was you. But that call didn't come.

    Finally pushing aside my discomfort, I sat at the table with the others, they were playing cards. When I finally put down my book, I was bombarded by questions. "What put you here?" "What's your name?" "How old are you?" I had no interest in answering any of them so I stayed quiet. Then, a voice piped up, not with a question but rather just a single statement. "You're beautiful." That single statement was the only one that caught my attention, I looked up to see who the voice belonged to. His hair was messy and blond, so similar to your own. His eyes were kind and I began to wonder why on earth he could be here. I didn't want to be rude so of course I didn't ask, but the question burned in my brain. As if to cut the silence that hung in the air, the phone on the wall rang. Multiple patients sprung up and raced to answer it, my heart skipped. Maybe it was you, finally, maybe I could hear from you. My thoughts were quickly shot down as the girl who picked up the phone called out an unfamiliar name. I turned back to the table and finally responded to the boy, the boy with the kind eyes that reminded me of home, the eyes that reminded me of you.

"Thank you." I replied shortly, doing the best I could to avoid eye contact with the stranger.

He smiled, I noticed a nose piercing when I looked up to see his response, "I have no problems telling people the truth." He said that almost sarcastically, and very confidently.

    Shortly after he finished his sentence, a girl who was about my height and build sat down next to me and laughed, "so she actually speaks?"

I tried my best to laugh at what she said, but all that came out was something that more closely resembled a choke.

    Soon, I was offered a place in their card game and that was the start of me feeling just a little bit better.

...

    After a week, I knew their names, why they were here, who they have at home, and so many more things that you wouldn't learn about a person until you had been friends for months. My short conversations with the boy soon turned into little spats of sarcasm, little competitions to see who could say the snarkiest thing about the other. You called me on my third day here, you visited me on my fifth. I had been calling you every night and listening to your voice through the receiver seemed to calm me down. I knew that I would see you again sooner than I realized. Although the days felt like weeks there, I held hope in my heart, a little spark, that you would be back in my life again soon.