Saved By You

Chapter 7

I opened my eyes then and noticed my heart rate picked up according to the continuous beeping, apparently they noticed too and Mack snaps his mouth shut before he said anything else and they both plastered a smile.

‘Claire, you're awake,’ the doctor says, stepping forward to the monitor to check something.

I stared.

How does she know my name?

As if knowing what I was thinking she motions at Mack who stood there shrugging sheepishly, hands up in surrender.

I frown.

‘Now Claire, as your doctor, and like I have said before, I believe there are things happening at home. It has indeed been almost 2 years since I last saw you and your issues have become worst…' she turns and gives Mack a pointed look, finally remembering his presence, and he glares at her before backing out of the room. His shadow sitting into a chair outside the window-wall blinds.

She looks back at me but I just stare endlessly at the white, plain wall in front of me.

I shudder.

‘Hun, I know you probably don't care, but if you don't take better care of yourself then the possibility of your body collapsing will be higher, you'll have less time to live and well, as much as I want to help, there's nothing I can do about it. It's up to you to decide your fate.’

My fate.

Death.

Did I still want to die? I guess. I mean, what's there to live for?

Now or later? Who cares as long as I don't go back “home”.

She stays quiet as if giving me time to speak before her voice cuts the silence.

‘Claire,’ she says moving to stand closer to my bed and almost blocking my view of the wall. She sighs and sits on my bed, her hand touching my knee ever so gently that I barely even noticed.

She puts her clipboard down behind her and stares at me for a long, long time until I look back at her. She sighs and I realise how tired she looked, how womanly and exhausted she seemed, and as she sighed it was as if she got ten years older even though she was only in her late thirties. So much responsibility and things she’s seen.

Why does she care so much? Other people have it way worse. Why me?

‘Sweetie, I know it’s hard to talk about your problems, whatever they may be, but you need to talk to someone. If you get passed all your problems, get a good job and get out of the house, country even, you can be free, be yourself again. Look at me – I used to go through depression when I was around your age, younger even, once even tried to kill myself…’ My eyes widen a little and I couldn’t help but give her a once over.

Her? Suicidal?

She nods as if knowing what I was thinking, ‘things were bad back then, my mother used to beat me and throw me down stairs, my father always thought I was never good enough and wouldn’t give me a glance…’ she sighs as if this took a lot out of her and I could feel something inside me break a little at her expression, so sad and vulnerable. Was that how I looked sometimes when I let my guard down?

Then suddenly she smiles, ‘I worked hard you know, and look where it got me. I was a mess but when I stumbled across a lady I used to see every day at the park she came and talked to me. At first I hated it. I hated her and her perfect happiness while I was all skin and bones and bruised and hurt. But she never stopped talking to me, never stopped pushing on and smiling, handing me food and even a CD once…’ she trails off smiling down at nothing as her eyes glazed over at the memory.