Bully Proof

Chapter Five

"Alright," I heard a voice call as the door to the room opened once again, "visiting hours are over." She turned to Spencer, "Please head out when you're done here." Her attention went to me, "Your mother is going to be in the waiting room overnight; she wanted me to let you know that. You'll be leaving tomorrow, and we'll let you know what you should do at home before you leave. Have a nice night."

After the nurse left, Spencer gave me a hug and made his way out as well. I was glad that he visited, mostly because it showed me where we stood. He was there for me. He was going to be there for me when I went back to school and faced Claire. He said that we will get through it. I'm not alone.

After the nurse and a doctor came in the room and did a few more simple things without uttering a word to me, I was left alone to sleep.

And boy, did I sleep!

And boy, did I dream!

I didn't.

The hospital room was dark and there were a bunch of little lights that could have been the equivalent to the monster under my bed from when I was younger. I just wanted my phone to distract myself from the room around me. I just wanted to go home.

By the time I actually fell asleep, it was only from not being able to keep my eyes open, but it felt like I was in that room, staring into the oblivion for hours, not being able to sleep to put myself out of my self-induced torture.

I woke up from a dreamless nap to a really loud thump. My body jolted up, which gave my eyes no time to adjust to the lighting and I had to shield my eyes because of it. I heard someone groan somewhere to my right, and I looked over (with my now adjusted eyes) and saw Spencer on the floor next to my bed. I bursted out in laughter, not being able to keep quiet and spare his pride, but Spencer ended up taking one look at me before he joined in my laughter.

After a few minutes, Mom walked in and looked at us like we were crazy. We obviously had the giggles, and Spencer was still on the floor, cackling away. Mom just walked back out of the room after seeing us, which only made my laughter grow and start a whole new round of giggles to emerge.

The nurse walked in not too long after that, and we immediately shut our mouths. "Kiley," the nurse said, "we are going to discharge you in two hours or so. Your mother already has all of the details regarding your treatment after you leave, but just in case she forgets, you are to be bedridden for the next two weeks so your immune system can heal. That means you can only get up to use the bathroom and bathe. Meals will be brought to you and you have to take some medications once a day for the first week, and then every other day for the second week. You will also be taking vitamin supplements once a day for the entirety of the two weeks. It's all written down on this slip of paper," she waved a little note card around, "which is going to be on this chair," she placed the paper on the seat my mom and Spencer had previously sat on. "The doctor will be back in a few minutes for some final measurements, and if everything is still okay, you'll be on your way home." She glanced over at Spencer, eying us back and forth, "Have a nice day, you two."

"Thanks," I called out just after she closed the door. The doctor came in twenty minutes later, and Spencer had to leave, but after the doctor had taken my blood pressure, temperature, and looked at my skin (which was no longer peeling nor was it inflamed), he told me I was good to go home. Mom came in after that and gave me proper clothes to change into.

After I changed, Mom drove us to Checkers and let me get a twist ice cream cone (those are my favorite). We drove around a little, mostly because we both knew that as soon as we got home, I'd be a prisoner in a cell for the next two weeks, and she let me log into my Spotify account on her phone to play my music through the car speakers (I still didn't know where my phone was), which was nice of her. It showed me that she cared a lot. Sure, part of it was probably because she felt guilty, but we had already established that it was both of our faults, and I wasn't going to pass up a nice car ride with great music.

Either way, though, we still ended up in the driveway. I didn't want to get out of the car, but I knew I had to. Eventually, I did, albeit grumpily, and I went straight up to my room and changed into pajama clothes so I could be comfortable during my two week exile. I didn't bother playing any games with the doctor's orders; I just hopped in my bed and fell asleep (after all, I didn't get much at the hospital).