By my second dreadful week in the hospital, I was more than ready to go home. My leg ached dully all day unless I was on loads of painkillers, which made me feel just as awful. To make matters worse, I was being hit with violent waves of nausea that caused me to run to the bathroom every so often to retch into the sink. Oh, how it burned. It would erupt through both my nose and my mouth, endlessly dripping from my lips. Patrick, who always stayed with me, insisted it was from shock and maybe the sedatives. But the cluster headaches I would always get afterwards hinted to me that it could be another cause.
"Do you want some water?" Patrick offered as I lay motionless in my bed, my head propped up on several pillows in hopes to prevent another vomiting episode.
"Yeah," I croaked, pulling my blankets up my chin. My fingers brushed over my arm, feeling the rugged flesh where I had dug blades into my skin, and where IVs had been inserted several times because I found them extremely uncomfortable, therefore I always took them out. I hoped Patrick hadn't seen them, but my arms had been visible most of this time I had been hospitalized.
"Here." Patrick helped me sit up and placed the cool glass in my hands, droplets of water condensing inside of the glass.
I sipped it slowly, the sour feeling in my stomach slowly washing away. "Thanks..." I said, setting it down on the table next to my bed and curling up on my side. Patrick returned to his chair and glanced over at me.
"You gonna sleep?"
I shook my head. "No... I just wanna talk." He nodded and almost instantaneously, a smile tugged at his lips.
"Sounds good to me."
"Uh... Has Taylor bothered you lately? I mean, if you feel like talking to me about that.."
Patrick shrugged. "She's texted me.... apologizing. She's done it so many times. Normally, I would've planned to get back together with her, but you gave me some good advice. She's only gonna hurt me again if I forgive her. It's a bad habit I need to work on."
I smiled. "You seem a lot happier without her."
"I am. But what about you?" His smile faded, pain taking over in his eyes.
I frowned, chewing on the inside of my lip. "What about me?"
"Oh, come on, Melanie. I know something's going on. I knew it from the moment I met you." I gulped. I knew I could only hide it for so long, but I wasn't ready to be labeled as unstable. Now he was going to treat me differently, and I didn't want that. I wanted to be treated like a normal human being with normal feelings.
"Oh, uh... I just get a little... depressed sometimes..."
"When did it start?"
I chuckled. "You're no therapist."
He shrugged. "I could be. Call me Doctor Stump."
Smiling, I said,"Okay, Doctor Stump, it started when I was 22. Just a year after I graduated college. It just started as negative feelings, and I thought it was all in my head. But then it got more extreme." He nodded and reached for my hand.
He looked up at me, tears in his eyes, his expression heart breaking. "It's not fair. Why do bad things always happen to good people?"
"I dunno. I wish I knew." Patrick looked down at my hand, and then proceeded to peel the blanket away from my arm. I quickly pulled away. "Uh, it's, uh..."
"Melanie..."
"Patrick, I'm sorry..." I cried. "I tried to keep this from you guys as long as possible... I didn't want you to worry!" Patrick gently held my wrists as he gaped at my horrific scars, dried blood scattered all over my skin.
Patrick gazed up at me, his lips trembling. "But.... why? Why would you do this to yourself?" He turned away, taking off his glasses, wiping his eyes with the sleeves of his flannel shirt.
I saw him in so much pain just to see my ugly scars, I couldn't help but let a tear or two escape as well. "I'm sorry..."
"But why?"
I shook my head and sighed. "Sometimes... the pain inside gets to be too much. So much that the only relief is physical pain."
"Don't do it again!" he cried. "I beg of you. Please stop."
I nodded slowly. "I'll try," I whispered.
"Whenever you feel like.... cutting," he began to say,"just come talk to me. I want to make you feel better. I want to make sure you know how important you are to us." He wiped his eyes one last time before pushing his glasses back on against his nose.
I whispered,"Thank you."
"I won't tell anyone... If that's really what you want.."
"Joe could overreact... It's for the best, okay?"
"Okay," he agreed quietly, squeezing my hand one last time before my doctor entered the room with a clipboard.
"Miss Trohman?" he asked.
"Yes?"
"Good news... We'll be letting you out of here in about three days. By then the nausea should settle down, but you may need to use crutches for the next couple of weeks."
I nodded. I was a little disappointed at how long I still had to wait. Every minute in this place was awful, except for the moments Patrick was here. He made me feel like I was someplace else, and helped diminish the pain somehow.
"Now, get some rest. That leg's gonna need plenty of time to heal up, as it was pretty deep."
The doctor turned to go, but suddenly, something I should've worried about long ago popped into my mind. "Wait. Have you.... Have you heard anything about the guy who attacked me?"
He paused for a minute. "Ah, yes.... The police found him unconscious and picked him up. A witness told them everything they need to know."
"Okay." I was completely fine as long as that psychotic man couldn't find me or kill me... Or do anything else. I owed so much to Brendon. If he never found me, I could have been killed or raped, thus ending up in a far more severe situation.
"Now, rest up. You've got a while to go before you feel better." The doctor closed the door and I sighed, laying back on the pillows as Patrick pulled the covers up to my chin and fluffed my pillows, making sure I was completely comfortable.
"Get some sleep," he whispered before kissing me gently on the forehead. "I'll be right here if you need me." I smiled weakly and thanked him softly before drifting off again.
why is she always sleeping at the end of the chapter im weird idk anyway vote, comment, and share pls! love you guys :)
