Infectious

17

I slide out of the hospital bed and make my way to the door, my entire body trembling.

"Good, keep going," the doctor encourages me. I'm three quarters of the way to the doors. Three steps, two steps, one step... I grasp the doorknob and prop myself up against the door frame.

"Wonderful!" she exclaims while happily clapping her hands. The Doctor quickly walks towards me, her feet annoyingly drag on the floor.

"Congratulations!" she says to me, placing a hand on the small of my back while cautiously leading me back to the bed. I sit on the edge of the rubbery fabric and she opens up a wooden drawer. The lady hands me a stack of clothing.

"Get dressed, I'll be back in a few," she instructs. I give her a firm nod of the head and she makes a beeline for the door. She slips through the crack of the door and I'm left to contemplate my thoughts alone. I slip the clothing on, shrugging on the my caramel brown leather jacket. Lacing up my combat boots, I can't help but wonder what will happen with Mike. What am is going to do with a supposed to be culprit? There's a light knock on the door and my mother enters with a broad smile plastered on her face. I flash her a grin as she produces a small box and a bag from behind her back.

"Happy birthday sweetheart, you're officially seventeen," she says. My mouth hangs open. It's been a year, a full year of my life has gone by and it simply flashed before my eyes. She sets both little presents down on the oak table and kisses my cheek.

"Open the blue bag first," she advises.

"Thanks mom", I say. A sad smile grows on her lips like a bitter taste has been left in her mouth. She turns around and leaves me with my thoughts. Where has this last year gone? I take a look at myself in the tall mirror that's on the other end of the room. My eyes have grown tough, and my face has lost a little of its happiness. I'm a warrior. Turning back to the gifts, I pick up the small blue bag. I fish around and finally touch something plastic. I pull it out and realize it was my first baby toy. A small green rattle, just large enough for a newborn. I unroll the piece of paper that is stuck onto it. 'I better be getting some grandchildren in a few years if he's sticking around!', my mother wrote. I can feel the heat rise in my cheeks even though no one is around. I set down the meaningful present and pick up the little black, velvet box. I pop it open. It must be from Griffith. The thought of his name brings a smile to my lips. No. My hands begin to tremble as I fish out the all too familiar object from its small container. It's the same one, the exact words and all. I take the little card of paper and open it, gulping back my tears.

'Sitting there, playing the guitar, I saw you pick up the necklace and I knew right away. It was made for you. The key charm that hung on the ancient looking jewelry was made to be yours. Gave this to your mother for safe keeping, hope you wear it all the time

Love,

Riley'

I try reading the rest of the letter but my eyes are so filled with tears I can barely see two centimetres in front of me. I blink the droplets out of my eyes and they splatter on the paper, but it's no use. The waterworks keep flowing and my cheeks are stained with unhappiness. I begin to tremble, this is the worst kind of crying. It's when my insides shake and I want to scream and yell without causing a ruckus so no sound comes out. The occasional choke escapes my mouth. The pain eats at my stomach like a bad bit of food and I want to rip my organs out. Heart heavy, weighed down by despair, my thoughts spin and contort themselves. Curling up into a ball on the floor, the pain begins to hurt my lungs until I'm certain I'm going to die.

"I miss you so much", I whisper between sobs, "you're so selfish sometimes."

Managing to inhale. I stare up at the ceiling and swallow salty tears.