{ turn, turn away / from the sound of your own voice / calling no one / just a silence }
"Really?"
"What?"
"Your lunch."
"What about it?"
"A piece of bread isn't gonna hold you over."
"So?"
Matt crossed his arms at Pete. He looked at him incredulously.
"What do you mean 'so?' -- people die by starving," Pete waved in Matt's face. "You know that, right?"
"It's just a piece of bread, Pete--"
"Yeah," he stood up. "And that's a chair, this is a burger, and this is my mouth telling you to eat."
"Mind your own business," Matt argued. Pete rolled his eyes.
The other boy sat back down, offering him the apple off of his tray. Matt looked at him. Pete pushed it toward the boy. Matt swatted the fruit onto the floor, watching it bruise as it landed on the tile. The other boy spoke up.
"If this has anything to do with your mom, I'm pretty sure she'd want you to eat as well."
Matt balled his fists -- seriously, why were people so wrapped in with his mother these days?
"Just forget about it, okay?"
"Fine," said Pete indignantly.
"Fine," said Matt, his head bent downward as the other boy stomped away.
*****
"The name's Matthew Herrington. I'm here to see my mom, Carrie Herrington."
The woman mumbled into her headset, waving over a nurse.
"This young man here," she covered her mic. "Send him to the ICU, please."
Matt looked at the man in scrubs.
"Just follow me, okay?" Matt nodded.
He slung his backpack over his shoulder, trudging down the plain white hallway with the plain white doors and plain white tiles. He let out a breathy sigh.
"You okay there?"
"I'm fine. It's fine."
"Okay, just checking."
And he stopped in front of the double doors to the intensive care unit. Matt blinked.
"Should be here," the nurse gestured. "If you need help, someone in there will figure it out."
"Thanks."
"No prob. Good luck."
"You too."
And the younger boy clicked open the lock of the heavy door, entering into the dimly lit room with the pale body on the bed. The machines' beep rang dully in the background. Matthew blinked, slinging off his backpack near the sofa.
"I'm back, Mom."
Silence.
"Yeah, today was good, I guess," Matt muttered to himself, taking out his notebook. "Kinda tired. Maybe I didn't sleep so well last night."
Silence.
"Good night to you too, Mom."
Matt flipped to a page in the notebook, gripping the pencil tightly as he added onto the list he kept throughout the day.
Gum -- 3 calories. Bread Roll -- 78 calories. Two Apple Slices -- 48 calories
TOTAL = 129 calories
Matt scribbled over the numbers in frustration.
*****
A/N -- Hey guys!!! New part (well, clearly). I thought I did so well in researching for this story (like I usually do, especially since I like to make it feel realistic, y'know??) but I ended up having to break out some super quick google searches while writing this bit, hehe. Hopefully it was entertaining AND factual! woo!
Annnyyywayy, dedication to deficientia- because Elizabeth is my tragedy pal (FEELS ARE SO GOOD TO READ THO) and she's been too good to me, guys, i swear, haha.
Do you guys feel for poor Matthew? I know I do -- his whole situation is all around sucky and I wish Pete would understand but then jdfghdk it's hard to understand someone with the mindset that Matt does on his ED.
The song for this part is "Turn Away" by Beck -- it's in the media at the top of the part. :)
Thanks for reading guys! See you in the next update. Much love. :) -NN
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bruised apples
Short Story↠ His father's death, mother's suicide attempts, and the not-so-shocking diagnosis of depression probably has something to do with Matt Herrington's desperation for something to control. In hindsight, it would have probably been better if that "some...
