Tick Tock [short story]

hospital[ ]visits

Sunday, July 28th, XXXX ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀16:03

United States of America

NXX XXXX

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I finally got some time to settle down and look for the notebooks I kept from before. They’ve always been under my bed. Haunting me as I sleep.

My first entry was from five years ago. That was the year Kassie died. No wonder my counselor seems to think my records are a coping mechanism. But it’s really not.

Back then, it was just a short list.

9:43 - brushed teeth

10:09 - went downstairs for breakfast

10:11 - got Lucky Charms

Those were Kassie’s favorite. She loved the marshmallows.

10:30 - finished eating

10:33 - went upstairs

10:38 - started on episode of Teen Wolf

11:22 - started on another episode

12:09 - finished the episode

12:10 - got hungry and decided to go and get lunch.

The lists went on and on. And on and on and on.

I had been obsessed. This style of recording continued for the next four years. This year, it all changed. My habit came close to dangerous. It had built up over the years and peaked this year. That was how my counselor put it. It was that way, yet at the same time, it wasn’t.

This was the year I got desperate. I was tired of that yawning hole in me. I wanted it go away.

I went to the hospital for the third time in my entire life that day. The first time, “I” didn’t go. My mom went. I went home with her though.

The second time was for Kassie. Paramedics got the scene as quick as they could. But you didn’t need to be a doctor to figure out that she was had no chance. She was already gone by the time we reached the hospital. I think she would have been sad that she died on a gurney in some metal truck somewhere instead of in her own bed, after she had gotten married and had kids and had a life. 

I sometimes wonder if it should have been me that should have died. Because she was normal. But I - I wasn’t. 

That third time, I had to get my stomach pumped. And then, when I was discharged, my mom went and found me a counselor. 

He recommended a special school for troubled kids after our fourth or fifth meeting. It was just a nice way of saying that I was officially whacked in the head. I start at that school in August.