Another Sad Story

5.

Chris has been talking to the doctor outside my room, I couldn't make out anything they had been talking about, it was starting to stress me out. What would happen now? Will I be sent away? How many more times before they lock you up?

The door flies open and Chris tries a smile, he opens his mouth to speak but turns to close the door. Walking next to me he held my cold hand.

"So, How are you feeling?" He asks.

"I'm okay, I want to go home."

"I understand,"

"Babe, what's wrong? Just tell me." I grow anxious to know what they were discussing.

"The doctor and I negotiated, I know the last thing you want is to be hospitalized so, let's make a deal, yea?"

I nod my head.

"You won't be hospitalized as long as you start seeing someone again, and allow someone to keep an eye on you for a few weeks. If you don't feel comfortable with a stranger in the house I will take it upon myself to get out of work and be there for you."

"So, my options are being stuck in a hospital with a whole bunch of people like me and worse, trapped in a tight room which in every hour they make you take nasty pills? or go home and be with you?"

"With the exception of therapy." He adds.

"Well I prefer that than the other."

"Okay, but I will be taking precautions from now on do you understand? No alcohol, no sharp objects around you. I'm not taking any risks. When we get home I need you to throw away anything else you could've used- " His voice trembles.

"I understand. It's okay." I kiss his hand.

He clears his throat. "Okay, so I'll go let the doctor know and I'll let you know when we will be allowed back home. I'll be right back." He kisses the top of my head before leaving.

It hadn't occurred to me until now that my actions wouldn't have just an effect on me but on him too. What if I had died? What would everything be like now? How stupid of me to try and think of something so idiotic, I'm still alive and that's all that matters. I think it'll be painful for both of us to go back to the house, to have to clean up that mess.

Therapy, thirty minutes wasted of my life every single week for God knows how long. Every week consists of the same question's and when you would proceed to tell them about your worries they just nod and write things down, they never actually try to help you, they're just worrying about their problems. I can't go back but I can't be hospitalized. Why did I do it?

Chris walks back into the room startling me from my thoughts."Alright so we can go home tomorrow morning but as of now, you need to get some rest."

"Are you going home?" I ask worried, I don't think I can stay the night alone. Hospitals are eerie.

"I have to go clean up and pick some clean clothes out for you."

I had realized that he meant he needed to clean up the mess I made, all that blood. "Don't clean it, I'll do that when I get there tomorrow."

"If I don't do it now, it'll leave a stain."

"It's going to stain regardless, it's blood." He glared at me with a strange look, he looked angry, he was getting upset.

"Right! It's just better if I go and do it right now so you don't have to worry about it tomorrow okay! So please rest up, I'll be back in the morning!" He was annoyed, he had a tight grip on his sweater which began to scare me.