Fallen Ash

ashton

     Silently jumping up and down in blissful joy, the springs in my mattress creak and squeak. Even bigger news than my 8th birthday tomorrow, is that in three whole days, I will finally have some roommates!! The news of brand new friends joining me, was enough to forget all I've lived up until this point. Mid-jump, a nurse's stern eyes lock with mine. Shame quickly courses through my veins, freezing my feet into place against the springs of the old mattress, and hanging my head to my dog printed socks. A stern voice shook against my ears, "Ashton... I know that you just received good news, but we have very strict rules for a reason. These rules need to be followed. Do you understand me?" I raised drooping eyes to meet her daunting ones, and slowly began nodding my heavy head. "Good girl," she stated. Her smile so fake, it was slowing chipping away what was molded to mock a human, cracking her exterior. Through her eyes, I could see her angry thoughts racing, almost as if it was a movie, projecting across her forehead. "You know that this entire experiment will be ruined by you making unpredictable movements, and lashing out like this. Unbelievable..." Her pace quickened, as her words became more serious. I began to tremble as her shouts echoed through my barren room.

     We were lifted all the way up on the 22nd floor, yet I would bet all my favorite paintings, that the tourists down below were listening and looking right up at our building. "HELP MEE!!" I wished to scream down to them, but then I remember that this is New York City. "The City that Never Sleeps," but also the place where all screams are ignored, and neighbors don't know each other's names. I remember coloring in the waiting room, while an old man and a young man began talking. Most people spend a lot of time waiting, here at Green Breeze Hospital. I'm lucky that I get to live here and they can always come to me quick, although my body is pretty infamous for being "unpredictable" to most doctors. As my flower drawing gained more red petals, I listened. "So then I tells him... why the hell would you bring Danny here like that. The hell am I supposed to do with him. When he's in that bad of a condition... Eh?! What do I do? I ain't no docta- the hell does he think I am." The younger man spit back reassurance, to the old stranger. "Exactly... what was he expectin from ya?!" The young man intrigued me a lot. He looks like a mixture of  the "bad boy" in every movie and my father, which as I grew older, I came to hate both. "So he says you can't just leave him alone, he's not gonna make the whole night... So I challenged his bluff, and did exactly that. Next day the police comes knocking on my door, early in the freaking morning waking me up out of sleep, askin me how a dead man ended up bleedin out right on my doormat. I says I didn't even know the guy, and the case got clear, and I got myself a new nice shiny doormat. You know my ma complains, every damn time she comes to visit. All about her damn doormat bein ruined, not even realizin how much trouble the guy she's complain to could have been in. I just apologize to my ma, and pour her some more coffee ya know... and I come to find out that bastard of my neighbor was the one who called and ratted me out. I don't even know the guys' name, and now he's out to get me... but you see he doesn't yet know who has my back, everyone who would fight for me. Yeahh... He don't know. So he better be real damn caref-." "Lorenzo Ricci," a thin nurse calls out, cutting the conversation. My eyes followed the young man and his slight limp, as he made his way down my favorite hallway. He was headed down the hall and then finally made a left, where all the sick babies go. I was hoping he could make a right, where all the healthy babies sleep. They keep the sick ones, and the healthy ones apart, like how me and Ava were always apart. The sick little babies, that end up growing to either be incurable and a burden, like me, or don't make it all the way to even begin trying to fix them. I look up at the lonely old man, picking dirt out from underneath his fingernails, and then look back down to the drawing before me. Red paint stained my hands, like the blood stains on the old man's ma's doormat. Shivers ran through me, as I rushed to wash the blood off of my hands. I never draw red flowers anymore.