Mr. Boss Man

Chapter 1 ~ The start of the beginning

Sometimes in life there comes a time where we have to make certain choices that seem inevitability impossible. Like we're trapped inside of ourselves.

Eventually we'll make a difficult decision; one that doesn't seem exactly right or wrong. One that might be best for some and not for others but then we have to wonder if it really matters at the end of the day. Because when that moment comes for us to to make a that judgment what option do we really have?

Opportunities will come and go as will the people in our life and the reality of an instance in time will be nothing but a mere memory from our pasts. If I've learnt anything from my life, anything at all, it will be to cherish the moment given to us; even if it's only for a second.

That blissful, heart stopping second that seizes our minds and captures our souls, and breathes that golden life into us again. Cherish it before it's over. Because no matter what, it will always be over in the end.

I realise that I'm lost inside myself as the words spill out onto the page in irreversible black ink. That the instant of perpetual thoughts had swarmed my mind like an overflowing cup of water and I'm drowning deep below the surface.

Breaking away from my thoughts I stretch my cramped limbs and turn to lie on my back. As much as staring at the ceiling is far from interesting I don't bother getting up. With my fingers splayed across my stomach and my head resting on the cotton pillow, I notice how immensely bored I am. Being stuck in a hospital bed is one thing, but being stuck in a hospital bed with no one but yourself on end for hours, during the night, is something completely different. It's not just creepy beyond comparison but I constantly find myself feeling...lonely.

Every now and again nurses will stroll in and out of the ward checking on patients but never really saying much. And it's not as if I can exactly ask them to sit down and have a chat at 2am in the morning, so I find myself immersed with the words I can't seem to express aloud anymore. In fact, it gets harder every day. Before the accident I didn't really have to look anywhere or turn to anyone for the inspiration I needed to write as it used to come to me so easily, but now I just feel so lost. Like a part of me is missing.

My mum stops by every day, though, so I can't really complain about that. But it's the pain she carries in her pale blue eyes that she fails to hide, that kills me. Lately she's been getting better though. She even seems brighter and more cheery every time she comes in here. I, however, try to keep the same amount of optimism, but it's hard. Ever since the car accident that killed my father on impact and left me with enough injuries to land me in this hell hole for a month, it's fair to say that I don't have much inspiration left.

The doctors said that there was no longer any swelling on my brain and the hairline fracture was healing. They also said that I was very lucky to not have any blood clots. But I can't seem to find the part where I'm lucky. The fact that I'm alive and my father isn't, is not luck.

It's a tragedy.

To me, the fractured foot, the sprained wrist, the concussion and multiple scars burned to my skin don't count as injuries in my book. They're more of a reminder. A reminder of how close I came to facing death and that I shouldn't take life for granted. Shouldn't take anything for granted to be accurate. Not my possessions, not my life, not my father's life. Which I did. And the guilt I drag around with me because of that is like carrying the devil around on my back, always whispering in my ear that I caused this to happen. That it's all my fault my father's dead.

I can't seem to remember the accident though, but the doctors believe this isn't due to memory loss but the onset of trauma of what I went through; that my mind is mentally blocking that out to save myself the pain of remembering. And I don't mind. I mean who would want to remember the worst day of their life?

~ ~ ~

Eventually I to drift asleep and when I wake again the sun is peeking over the horizon, casting amazing orange and pinks across the city's tall, imposing buildings. I turn my head to look over at the bed beside me. There used to be a little boy there, around the age of ten, who was being treated for the flu and high fevers. He used to cough throughout the night and I thought I was going to be diagnosed with insomnia because of it. Even though he was a sweet kid, I couldn't deny that I was glad that he was able to leave in the next few days of being admitted so I could finally get some rest.

But then one day a woman moved in the week after, and now I actually find myself missing the little kid and all his chesty, phlegmy coughing. Her skin is almost as golden as her hair is and her green cat-like eyes don't seem to miss a thing. She carries this air of confidence around with her as if anybody who stands in her way will have hell to pay.

At first I used to think that maybe she was just putting on a front, like I was when I had to spend my first night alone in a hospital because I was scared out of my mind, but the longer she stayed I realised that it's just a part of her, rather stubborn, personality. To be honest, she scares the shit out of me.

I think the only up side of having her here is the man that comes in to see her from time to time. He's a little older, like her, maybe in his early twenties and calls her 'Lana'. His dark brown hair usually looks like his fingers have been run through it more than a few times and he's tall, around 6'3. But it's his eyes that drew me in. They reminded me of the waters on a tropical island, so clear and blue, with a stormy grey near the inner iris. So much depth to them. So many secrets being harboured. Ones I want to uncover.

Like Lana, there is this certain aura around him that exudes confidence. Power. Masculinity. As if there is nothing in the world that could ever faze him. It fascinates me yet frustrates me at the same time. I want to know how he is so assertive, so sure of himself and so...

"Hi sweetie, how are you feeling today?" My mum's squeaky voice catches my attention from my deep thoughts. She's carrying a big brown teddy bear in her arms as she walks through the door. I can't help but smile. She's been bringing me lots of little gifts every week. The flowers that had once bloomed beside me on the bedside table are now wasting away, the brown petals of the roses crumbling and falling off. I've never really liked roses to be completely honest. I've always thought they're such a typical gesture. That they represent too many things, none of which suit me.

Love.

Beauty.

A bit more love. Such a confusing thing.

My mum, have always wanting to be a florist, loves them of course, always telling me what all the different colours represent. I think she wants me to open up a floristry one day but I've never really had any interest in flowers. To me they are just plants, pretty to look at, but plants nonetheless.

"Thanks mum," I giggle as I reach over and cuddle the bear to my chest.

"You know, you used to have a bear just like that when you were younger. Never left the house without it for three years straight." She smiles fondly at the memory. "I can't stay long," a sigh escapes her lips, "I have to get back to the office so I thought he could keep you company for now." She nods towards the bear.

"That's ok, Mr Bear and I will be fine." I give her a reassuring smile but however much convincing I am on the outside is a complete different story on the inside.

Once she leaves I set the bear beside me and cuddle into it. He smells like Channel number 5, mums favourite perfume, which I breathe in heavily. It brings me a sense of comfort to know that she's somewhat close to me. The worst thing about this place is the loneliness. That stuff can drive you absolutely mad.

It's a goddamn miracle I've got through this long.
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Hello there! Thank you for taking the time to read my story it really means a lot to me! If you enjoyed the first chapter please vote or comment so I know that you liked it:)
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