On Her Arms

Chapter 12

Charlie

I sit on a white bed in a white room that has white floors. Outside the hallway is, you guessed it, white. The whole room smells like it's just been cleaned and it's not the "your house just got cleaned and it smells like oranges." It's more of a "They just bleached the floors at your school to cover up the smell of body odor and throw up" kind of clean and it happens to be burning the hairs in my nose and making my eyes water. Maybe that's another reason I don't want to eat the peanut butter sandwich and strawberries that are on the tray a nurse handed to me. Maybe it's because nobody's come to see for hours. I know that sounds kind of selfish and all, but they put me in a room with no TV and my phone died an hour ago. None of my friends even texted me to see why I'm not at school.

Maybe they already know what I did.

What a stupid idea. Did I really think killing myself would teach them a lesson; possibly get their attention, because it clearly would've come no where near that. Sure, they probably would've come to my funeral or whatever they have now when bitches like me kill themselves. Then they would've forgotten all about me. It's like when someone you were best friends with starts going to a different school and you know you're never going to see them anymore because they don't have any after school activities with you and they don't play sports with you and then you suddenly realize you had nothing in common with them and you probably never will so you simply stop remembering they ever existed. Sound familiar? The thought almost makes me glad that I didn't kill myself, but not fully. If my plan had been a success, then I wouldn't be hearing the nurse yelling at me. 

"I don't even see how you can't hear me. Look at me young lady!" At the last word, her voice goes up really high and I almost burst out laughing because of how ridiculous she sounds. "Right now!"

I smile and roll my eyes. "Right now?" 

I don't look over at her, but I can practically see the skin on her forehead pushing together and her double chin coming out. "Who are your parents!" she screams.

There's a pang in my chest. "Why do you need to know?" I sigh.

"Well, I am going to find them and then I'm going to march straight up to them and tell them what a terrible job their doing at raising their daughter." Her hands are down at her sides and clenched into fists.

I laugh a little and turn to face her after I put my food on the table next to my bed. "Have fun marching to the cemetery" I sigh. Then I pretend to look her up and down. "Looks like you need the excercise anyway."

There's not even a moment of sympathy in her eyes. She probably didn't even process that my parents are dead. All she heard is that I indirectly called her fat. "I'm done with her!" she barks. "In my thirty years of being a nurse, I've never had to tolerate anyone as rude as that little brat!" 

She walks out, but she's not getting off that easy.  "Thanks for making depression more depressing!" 

Third one to leave me today. I hope it's not possible to be kicked out of a hospital.

That's when Hayes walks in. I almost smile. He sits in the chair next to me. I sit up a little more and cross my legs in a criss-cross applesauce sort of way. After a few seconds he stops staring at me and moves his eyes to the floor. "How are you?" he asks.

I hold up my hands. "Besides the fact that my wrists are chained to the side of the bed along with my feet and I have to hit a button every time I have to use the bathroom so somebody can come take them off of me, I'm fine."

He smiles a little. "It's funny, because I expected you to sound sick and everything, but you don't."

I reach my hand up so I can move my hair behind my ear. "It almost comes in waves. One minute I'm fine and the next I just want to smash something. It's funny how that works, huh?"

"Yeah, I was just wondering how you could do this to yourself-"

"Could we not talk about this," I whisper.

"Yeah, I guess." He starts to tap his foot and mess with his hands. He won't look at me and I can't find the nerve to make him. There's nothing covering my arms and I must look like a freak. Eventually, he speaks again. "Look, I'm sorry all of this happened-"

"What did I just tell you?" I ask.

"What else are we supposed to talk about? Hell, Charlie, you're sitting in a hospital bed and you're arms barely have skin left on them-"

"I don't want to talk about it!"

He's silent for a moment before he stands up. "Look, I'm sorry-"

"Stop apologizing! Okay? It's not your fault! None of this is you're fault!"

"I'm sorry... Sorry, I didn't mean to say that, I mean..." He points at the door. "I'm just gonna leave now. I'll come see you later."

After he's gone, I must fall asleep because someone wakes me up. "Ummm... miss. Are you gonna eat your food. I know it's not fresh. I can bring you a new one."

I look up at her. The horrifying face of a 30-year-old woman is what I wake up to. Her hair is red and she's wearing red lipstick probably meant to match it. She has dark eye shadow and loads of mascara on even though it's only the middle of the day. I can smell the mint gum in her mouth because of how close she is to me. "No thanks. I don't plan on eating ever again. It's kinda this whole strike thing I've planned. I call it patients against terrible food."

She stands up straight and moves away from my face. Instead of getting annoyed with me like I had expected her to, she smiles and laughs a little. "I know exactly what you mean. The food here is pretty terrible. Is there something you want me to make for you? I could get someone to sneak out and get you McDonald's or something, or if we have the right stuff, I could make you an ice cream sundae."

I sigh sarcastically. "Even though I would really enjoy that, this whole food strike has to continue in order for my plan to work, so I'll have to pass up your offer.

She still doen't get annoyed. "How about a gatorade?" she asks.

I twist the cuffs on my hands against my wrists. There's a foam padding on the outside of them so I can't cut myself with them. "Will you go away after that?"

"If I get you to drink that, my job can be done."

I guess drinking a gatorade isn't the worst thing in the world, but as soon as she left, I realized what was.

Being alone is what did this to me.