Forest of Rope

Chapter 15

Life's a bitch and then you die. It doesn't get any simpler than that whenever Alexis Moore takes a minute out of her worthless day to think about it. Here she was at the prime of her fast-expiring youth with everything a young woman could want. She had independence, a job and a boyf – no wait...

When Alexis awoke on a rickety hospital bed, draped in an unforgivably baggy hospital gown with a drip attached to her arm and a tube poking around in awkward places, she couldn’t say that she was surprised.

Apparently she’d had her stomach pumped which of course was ridiculous.  She knew as well as the doctor who informed her that she hadn’t taken enough to do the job yet this still somehow warranted regular check-ups every fifteen minutes and the assurance that there were no sharp objects or harmful meds within the accessible area.

The dull cream-coloured walls of the mental health unit added to her deflation and weakness. Never before had she witnessed such a desolate and colourless place.

She felt like the star of a cheap, gritty art-house project, lying weakly, almost motionlessly if not for her long drawn out breaths, in-between two other patients, one as ugly and joyless as the other. A set of cubicle curtains (to her relief) separated them most of the time but it couldn’t soundproof their repressed yet still audible cries and sniffles in the darkest hours of night.

She raised her heavy head with strained effort to look towards the foot of her bed where Vincent uncomfortably slept with his arms crossed in a fold-up chair. She couldn’t help smiling like an idiot at him. His presence in this cold, haunted place was the only comfort available to her.

‘Psst. Hey,’ she hissed at him, hoping to lull him back from fretful sleep to stable consciousness.

‘Vincent.’

Her voice was croaky and dry from thirst. Frustrated, Alexis threw her head back down on the pillows. The moment she gave up Vincent bolted awake, almost falling out of his chair in his confusion.

‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ he groggily murmured, rubbing his half-closed eyes.

It had been a few days since she was first brought here and they’d taken their toll on Vincent. She was no longer on the drip but was still too weak to walk.

‘It’s nothing, calm down. I was just thirsty.’

‘I’ve got it,’ he stood up immediately and hurried himself off to the water cooler in the hallway.

Alexis caught the eye of the bedridden patient across from her through a small parting in the curtains. She was sat upright, cross-legged, looking curiously (or rather nosily) towards the permanently open doorway which Vincent had just strolled through. Alexis bit her tongue scornfully, envying the woman's ability to move freely.

'He's a very handsome lad isn't he?'

Alexis did a double take. She must have been hearing things. The old woman hadn't spoken a word since Alexis was admitted and from the glazed faraway look in her worn, sunken eyes it had seemed that she wouldn’t be speaking for the remaining duration of her stay. 

'You must be very lucky to have him.'

No but she had spoken! She couldn’t have imagined it. The woman was wrinkled and tired, having long since been put out to pasture. Alexis stared, dumbfounded at her nerve, transfixed by her age. 

Meanwhile the unbearably monotonous hospital radio played ironically labelled “easy-listening” tunes over the PA. Alexis sulked miserably, longing for her headphones. She wasn’t sure if she had the energy to respond, least of all to such an ancient being who probably couldn’t even remember her own name.