These hospital elevators are always the worst. They're just enough to make me incredibly claustrophobic and gasping for air but at the same time large enough to fit at least 10 other people in with me. Which is exactly what happens each fucking time I get in one. I'm just lucky I guess.
Room 105 is her room number. It's on floor 2 and it's packed in between some old wailing woman and a room with M.A.S.H blaring on repeat. She's always in the same position, eyes closed with a peaceful expression. I hate it. I don't understand why she gets to have peace for her actions and I have to sit here and suffer. I get to limp around town getting sympathetic glances from strangers and awkward texts from friends wondering why I haven't been out since the accident.
I force myself to sit next to her and stare at her peacefulness. Mom quickly leaves the room, deciding that I need space.
Air burns in my throat and it feels like my chest is collapsing in on itself. I force myself to breathe like my therapist told me.
In five...
Out ten...
In five...
Out ten...
"Bunny you selfish bitch, I need you to wake up. You left me all alone with this fucking limp and now I have no one else. You need to wake up before I loose my mind because I'm lost without you..."
In five...
Out ten...
I decide it's time for a smoke and I head down to the lobby, cigarettes in hand.
YOU ARE READING
The Moon Was A Witness
Teen FictionAmber Lee, a sixteen year old filled to the brim with sarcasm is lonely. Unfortunately her best friend is in a coma, she's stuck with a stupid limp, and the red haired girl she's in love with can't ever text back. (Trigger warnings with self harm a...
