Another World To Live In

I had awoken once again to the voice of that woman. For a dazed moment, my head rocked slightly on the pillow before arising - and with my arms, raised myself to sit up. She pulled out the clipboard, and a pen, and began to ask me the questions. My name was apparently very important to them - she asked every day for it, along with my occupation, age and family.
"Edward, tell me about yourself," she said. I told her the same things I'd been telling her for the past few days: McGrath and soldier. I proceeded to inform her that I had plenty of this absurd daily routine, and she ought to stop as I could no longer tolerate the irrationality. She shook her head and said she could not do so, then smiled and exited the room, leaving me to myself and Betty.

I saw that Betty had finally come to see me. She slept on the chair next to the window, with her head resting on the pane. Her hands laid on her lap, clasped, which through the glass streaks of light shined upon. Golden sparkles flickered from her fourth finger. She then woke up to the call of the rising sun, so I smiled, called her name and greeted her good morning like I always did. She walked towards me, kissed me on the forehead and held my hand. I held hers tightly. Conflicted feelings of sentiment and compassion surged through my body: Betty was all I had left. I turned to set my feet on the floor and quickly hopped off the bed; it was the source of my slight imbalance. With my frail body, I held on to Betty, and we slowly yet steadily walked away from the bed. Through the glass, we saw several cars on the road - some of them had flashing lights and some drove past. People ran about in the first light of the day. The world was beautiful, and so was Betty. I noticed Betty turn around to look at the empty space, the void space in the middle of the room which invited us to dance. Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me played on the radio. The slow beat made us reminisce with our memories when Betty's beautiful hazel eyes locked with mine while we danced. Our younger years felt like it was all yesterday, when she came into my life and turned it around - and when she'd given me the best present: her smile, her laughter, and her love. After all these years, she had loved me despite my flaws and had always been at my side, whether we'd be laughing, crying or expressing our hatred towards the world or our hopes for the next. Our love was sacred to me: something I could not ever forget. Now thinking about it, Betty hadn't changed at all; she still liked dancing as much as I did. I smiled at her old eyes, eyes that'd seen it all. She rested her head on my chest, and I caressed the sweet soul before me. A noise came from the left - a woman with a tray of food interrupted us. As she saw us, she nearly dropped the tray and stared with shock. She then composed herself once again, and told me to sit on the bed, for I shouldn't be walking around, and if I needed help I were to press the button on the wall. If anything, it was her that needed help, not me. The woman continued to ask me the same questions - except she asked one more question this time around.
"Edward, who is that sitting on the chair?" she asked. I opened my mouth to speak - but I was bewildered, speechless. I looked at her with a look of confusion and disbelief. She ought to know. She has to know.
"Betty," I say. "My wife?" She gasped with realisation. After that, she half-grinned, and left. I turned to look at the chair, where Betty sat during the woman's visit. The chair was vacant, and so was the room. I started to breathe at an alarming rate as I scoured the room for her. Betty was gone. I flung the door open and paced down the corridor. My voice reverberated down the hallway. People stared at me in confusion. A man with a small white coat told me to calm down and to return to my room. Betty was the one thing I asked from this world, and it took her away from me.

~

The bright ceiling light woke me up. Before sitting up, I realised a tall man standing next to the bed, looking at me. He looked like he was in his early thirties, and had short, silky brown hair styled with gel.
"Father," he spoke. "It's me, Jonas." He held my hand, and I flung it away. He was unfamiliar; I did not know him, yet he began to speak to me as we were already acquainted.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"Father..."
"Do I know you?"
"Father..." he mumbled. He fell to the floor, to his knees. I realised that Betty was still nowhere to be found. In hopes of her return, I quickly got up and pushed the blankets away. Before I could leave, the pitiful man grabbed my arm.
"Betty's not here," Jonas said. "She hasn't been since last year. You've lost touch with what's real and what's not, father. You're hallucinating." I got up, as if in a trance, and looked outside the window - ambulances with flashing lights rushed in and out as the sun was setting and doctors with white coats ran about frantically. This world was the one I wished I was never in. The world I didn't want to belong in. The world of reality pierced through my heart. I returned to my bed, closed my eyes and wished to return to Betty. Maybe living a lie wouldn't hurt.