Coping With Clarity

Chapter Fifteen

It's well past lights out.

Dr. DeLuise could hide behind any closed door or appear quietly from a near corner and stop everything. So Selena was careful.

Her heels were hooked on the tips of her fingers. The cool floor healed her bruised feet that had suffered, not only a night inches above ground, but also Selena’s grueling sprint through the hospital. Step after step, floor after floor. She’d barely uttered a words of ‘thanks’ to Taylor and Lucas, hoping they understood her need for a hasty exit.

Other than the one night she had shuffled to ward thirteen in a sleeping bag, Selena hadn’t actually seen the ward after curfew. Energy saving lights that really didn’t make a difference to not having light at all were familiar, both good as well as bad. Selena would be mostly hidden from staff if she hurried but she’d probably walk into a wall because of her handicapped vision.

Or she would have, if she wasn’t confident that she could make the journey to Demi’s room in her sleep.

Her heart was a hummingbird in her chest, wanting to fly out of its cage.

There was no way to tell how the trauma and hast of the night had affected her prom attire. The darkness wrapped around her. Hair was felt falling out of bobby pins and sticking to the back of her neck. Selena wondered why she should care (so much).

Her bare feet leave temporary footprints on the floor, she crept close. Unfortunately her breathing wasn’t as collected and her mouth parted in its attempt to cool her body. Selena hates how hot she feels, and how the air around her isn’t doing anything to help her condition.

Demi’s door radiates the promise of the girl inside. Selena isn’t sure where the light is on, but the girl’s silver nameplate shimmers on sight.

A small panic flooded her system at the view of the closed door. Remembering the gunshot-loud noise the handle made when Dr DeLuise demonstrated opening it. She remembers the sight of Demi asleep inside, tangled in legs and dreaming. Then it doesn’t matter if it makes a noise because all Selena wants, is to see her. Even if its just to sit in the chair, that has never gotten comfier, and watch over her friend.

A visible sigh of relief fogged on the varnished nameplate as the door split open without a sound. The latch was off. The door hadn’t been closed.

She wanted to step in quickly because anyone could have seen her. Prom dresses don’t make for good disguises in hospitals. But she hesitated. 

Through the thread-like crack she spotted the bed. Crumpled sheets, a pillow without a recent indentation; without Demi. Curiosity and nausea force Selena’s palm to push. The images of the relapse are numb in her head from being replayed but threaten to trigger. Ready to flip the switch.

Blinds let in moonlight that Selena almost rolls her eyes at, knowing too much about cliche and those moments. Fear is diffused and the timer never ticks down. Demi is there. Selena stared with an unaware captivation. It was lucky that Demi wasn’t facing her to see her stunned form, or close enough to recognize the signs flaring from her.

She wasn’t in bed, or even near it.

A glinting light was on, above the thin full length mirror, fixed against the wall opposite from the entrance to the room. Demi has her back to her, standing, in front of the mirror. One arm props herself up off the wall. The support created after turning on the light, operated by a nearby pull thread. The string doesn’t swing, as if it hadn’t been pulled for a while, and the light glowed brighter than it would have if only recently switched on.

No doubt Demi had been there for a while. Looking into the clean, cool reflective material. Selena wanted to know what she was looking for.

Her presence hadn’t drawn Demi’s attention because there wasn’t any visible light difference between the room and the hall to give her away. Selena had minutes to silently wonder and hopefully not scare Demi.