-|I Don't Smile continues |-

-| N O W | -

I bite my lip as my bare feet touch down on the ice-cold ground, hard under my dry skin. Gripping the rail of my bed, I steady myself, my knuckles alabaster. A nurse scurries over, placing a gentle hand on the small of my back, holding me there. I don't say anything, bar one word.

"Socks." My throat still feels like sandpaper. Dry, scratchy. She nods, ensuring I'm stable before rushing away. Why is everything so silent, so starched, so white? Why does everything have to be so clinical? It's draining me. I feel more and more exhausted every day. Everything's a strain, a struggle. I feel like giving up. But I can't, that's not fair on everyone else.

The doors swings and the nurse scuttles in. I lift my eyes before dropping them again. I don't say anything as she helps me put the soft material over my numb feet. I have no idea where she found them. I don't ask. I don't care. They're socks. I don't do small talk—it's overrated. She smiles a little, trying to force one from me. I don't move. My features remain muted. She sighs to herself and scampers off. I'm left—once again, alone.

The clock ticks above me, marking every passing minute. I study the larger hand, using it as a distraction. One, two, three, four, five. One, two, three, four, five. Methodical. One, two, three, four, five. Constant. One, two, three—

The doors swing again and Lou bursts through. I sink down in the starched sheets, seeking comfort. I'd been too immersed in distracting myself, I hadn't noticed the little hand gaining on seven. Visiting time.

"Amy."

I don't move. I don't smile.

She sits. I stare. She fidgets, uncomfortable, placing her bag on the ground.

"Are you feeling better?" She asks tentatively, trying to make me speak.

I stare straight ahead, my nails digging in my skin.

"We miss you." She says quietly.

I miss Mom too. I don't say that though.

"The doctor said you'll be discharged soon." She says, almost reassuring herself. How clinical does that sound? Not 'you'll be home', but 'you'll be discharged'. It sounds so... impersonal. She's right, it won't be home anymore. Not now. Not ever.

My heart aches just thinking about the ranch and the one person missing. What will I do when I get out? Will it ever go back to normal? No.

Everything is going to be different.

"There's a new stable hand coming." She tells me, but I don't listen.

What about Heartland? We don't have Mom anymore. I dig my nails further in my skin, ignoring the sharp pain. How can we keep Heartland going? It's impossible. It'll never work. The one thing Mom left will be gone. Dead—

"Mom hired him." She adds. My head shoots up. But still, I don't utter a word. Her eyes flicker to mine and she smiles a tiny bit. She finally has my attention for the first time in weeks. That's all though, it's not like she's one the lottery. "He's on probation."

I frown. He's done wrong? I turn my head and resume my staring. Lou sighs, shifting in her seat, about to leave when the doors swing once again. The third time this morning.

The doctor walks towards me, plucking the clipboard from its holder. He nods at Lou. She smiles weakly. I have to remind myself sometimes, I'm not the only one who lost my mom. He lifts his head slowly to look directly at me. I do not meet his gaze.

"Morning, Amy." He says cheerfully, like there's nothing wrong at all. I flinch at his obvious happiness but otherwise remain motionless. He drops his head again, scanning through my notes. "You can go home tomorrow." Home. Not home.

I continue to stare at nothing. The white wall now engraved in my mind. I don't care. He sighs, the creases of his eyes showing in my peripheral vision. After a moment though, they're gone. He forces a smile and looks to Lou. "Could you possibly fill out the papers?"

She nods, glancing at me before rising. She squeezes my hand, "Bye, Amy." She says. "I'll see you soon." And she's gone. The doctor follows her out of the swinging doors, the clipboard having been returned to its rightful position.

I sink further in my white sheets, shuttering my eyes. For now: seeking the darkness.

-|THEN|-

Metal rings. Rain thrashes down, pelting off the crushed remains. They kick and cry in agony, trying in vain to be heard.

There are still no lights, no life, just the pitch black sky and the harsh, hailing winds. A young girl screams in anguish, pushing, and pushing against the cold, heartless, metal.

No one hears them. They fall quiet, and she breaks down in sobs, yelling every so often. All her cries, all of his, fall on death ears. They are alone.

Together: yet so alone.


Nurse's review of this chapter: Poor girl.