Playing Doctor

Chapter 16

    I needed to find my parents. I needed Kelly to find me. I needed them. And they had been looking for me. Every day. All this time. For six months...I had been gone for six months. The school year had ended then, summer had past, winter was creeping in on us, and I sat here, wasting away.

    If I died no one would know.

    They would look for me. My parents would look and look and look and they would never find me. What would that do to them?

    It would destroy them.

    My brain screamed through thoughts, whirling around trying to find reason in my sickness. I remembered the last time I tried to run. The pain, the agony, the fear. He would kill me if I tried again. But was it worth it? To die, laying here, and not fighting? Or would it better to try again? Maybe I could win. Maybe I could get away, call the police. They could save me and bring me back home.

    I could see mom and dad again. I could hug Kelly.

    But if I failed, I'd die.

    What was better? Sitting in bed or escaping? Living or dying?

    Could I even try to run?

    I stared at my foot. It was bad. I probably couldn't walk. I was crippled. How could I get out of here? The memory of Henry sawing at my toes came back and I cringed. No! I couldn't do that again. But my parents....Kelly...

    Fat tears fell out of my eyes, soaking my night shirt. Slowly I reached down, my head feeling like it was splitting open as I grabbed for the remote.

    I had a half baked plan.

    I turned the TV volume up. I flinched, hoping no one noticed it too soon.

    Oh, I was crazy, I had to be. I couldn't do this...or could I? My eyes flickered around the room. A large book sat on the counter across the room. It had been there forever. It looked heavy.

    It was one weapon.

    My brain churned, memories crashing in on me. I flinched, biting my lip till I tasted blood. A memory clicked into place.

    There were scalpels in the drawer below the book.

    Another weapon.

    The TV....the book...the knives...could I do this now? I didn't have weapons last time. Did I have a chance this time? But how? Everything felt like I was thinking under water.

    My fingers brushed something plastic. It was my call button. The TV, the book, the scalpels,...and the button. Click. The pieces just fell together. One, two, three.

    But the front door...I hadn't been able to open the door. My heart sank. I hadn't thought about that. Once I get out to the living room...there has to be a phone. Or I had to try again. It was do or die. I didn't know how much time I had left to run. But could I do this? Could I mess up again?

    For a moment I closed my eyes and took a deep, soothing breath. When I opened them again I had made up my mind.

    I was going to die either way.

    I was going to try though.

    It was better to go trying than laying down.

    Walking was the worst part. My foot wouldn't hold my weight and it felt like I was on fire. I cringed, holding back a scream. My wheelchair was next to my bed. I dumped myself inside, breathing hard. My vision threatened to go black, but I fought it. I had to do this. Had to.