Waiting Tables

Chapter 19 - Options

*TW. Chapter summary is at the end in bold again*

Overdose.

In Ashton's world, that word meant one thing: failure.

It meant he didn't do what he'd wanted to, he couldn't even end his life properly.

It was silent for the moment in his hospital room. Because he was supposed to be a harm to himself and maybe others, he'd gotten a private room. Almost everything had been stripped from it; all the wires and cords, the bottles with chemicals he could ingest, and anything sharp was removed. He'd gotten a bit of food once so far, and it had come on a paper tray with only a dull plastic spoon.

They'd even sent an employee to sit in the corner of the room to watch him. All he did was sleep, but once he tried to get up to go to the bathroom and she regretfully informed him he had to keep the door open and she was required to stand outside of it. (She didn't look, but she stood in the the doorway to make sure he didn't try to hurt himself.) He knew it was only her job, and he had passed the point of caring. He wasn't going to do anything anyway, not at the moment. He was just too tired.

All he did was lie in bed and stare out the window until he fell asleep or one of the nurses came in to check on him. The aide in the corner tried to talk to him once or twice, but he never responded. So she stopped trying, and he assumed she told the next employee who came in to relieve her the same thing, because this other girls following her didn't say anything to him either.

He'd been in the hospital a total of 3 days, but he'd only been awake coherently for most of one night. The next morning, the nurse came in happily rolling her computer on wheels inside the room, still talking to Ashton and explaining things like he cared or was going to respond.

"Well, Mr Irwin, we can finally take you off this IV drip for a little bit since you're awake. Can we trust you to consume enough fluids without it?"

He just looked at her with that dead look in his eyes, but she didn't even flinch, like he'd expected. Maybe she was used to this, or maybe she was good at covering her emotions like he was, but he kind of liked this nurse. She didn't sugar coat things or really try to make him do much.

"We're gonna try it, anyway. If I notice you're not doing what you should, we'll have to hook you back up." Ashton blinked, looking down at his blanket covered lap as she twisted the tubing to remove it. "Okay, so here's the plan for today. The psychiatrist is going to come in at some point and do a little eval on ya, now that you're awake and coherent. It's very important that you talk to him, because that's going to decide what happens to you next," she said with a serious look. She walked over to the white board in the corner of his room, the one that stated his name, the room number, the date, and the names of his current nurses and aides, and wrote what his goals for the day were. Today next to the currently unchecked boxes, she wrote "drink fluids/eat meals", "psychiatrist eval" and "smile".

She replaced the whiteboard marker in her blue scrub pocket and walked over to him.

"Look, I understand things look hard right now, but I know you're strong, Ashton. It's okay to not be able to do it on your own; sometimes we all need a little help. It's nothing to be ashamed of." She slowly reached out to take his hand, giving him time to pull away, but he didn't. He just looked at their hands but didn't react. "In fact," she smiled, squeezing their hands and getting up. "There's some people outside who have been waiting for you to wake up. Your friends want to see you,"

Her words didn't register until it was practically too late. She was already slipping out the door, about to let people in to see him.

He tried to speak up, but after 3 days of silence, all that came out was a crackle.