Disclaimer: I do not own Hannah Montana.
Miley's POV:
I felt really horrible. I couldn't even explain it. I couldn't breathe this time. For real. I found myself breathing heavily, but chest going up and down, up and down. I needed to talk to someone. Someone who'd understand. I pulled out my cell phone from my pocket and quickly speed dialed.
"Lilly? You there?" I asked hopefully.
"Yeah, it's me, Miley."
"Oh, Lils, you will not believe what just happened."
"No, I have to tell you something too. But…you first. Is it good news or bad news?"
"B-bad."
There was a silence.
"Speak to me, Miles."
"Jake broke up with me." I said all in one breath.
"Huh? You two were more perfect than perfect. How?"
"Through a letter. Can you believe it? I wake up this morning and I find a letter next to my bed with my name on it. I open it up, and BAM, he broke up with me."
"No! I'm so sorry Miley. What happened? Deets, please."
I gulped and swallowed with difficulty.
"Lilly…I don't really want to give you any…details—for this one. S-Sorry. D-Do you understand? It's just too personal." I bit my lip.
"Yeah…I understand you Miley. If it's just too personal then…yeah, no, I completely fully understand."
I wasn't absolutely convinced, but…
"Well…Lilly, I think I still like him. He said that we should forget everything we had together. I-I don't think I can handle that, let alone our break-up. I need to get back to school and talk to him! I know he won't answer his phone if I call him," I said worriedly.
I knew that Jake would dodge me everywhere we went because of this. But I just couldn't bring myself to tell Lilly about our fight. And especially about the blood that came from my throat. I wouldn't tell her that even if she was one hundred years old and about to die.
"I don't know, Miley. We'll just have to see. Calling him is worth a shot."
"Yeah…Ooh, gotta go. Catch you later though, Lils, promise."
"Bye."
"Ciao."
I snapped closed my phone and shoved it in my pocket as a tall woman with dirty blonde hair and a white coat came in, clutching a clipboard as if it were her last weapon. Her over-painted red lips formed a cheesy smile, and I was surprised when she brought over a chair from the side and sat it down next to my bed.
"Hello, you must be Miley. I'm Dr. Estrus. Surely Dr. Jacobsen, you know, you're real doctor, told you I was going to visit?" she asked in a thick but high-pitched voice.
"Um, no, he didn't. But, uh, nice to meet you too," I said oddly shaking her large outstretched hand.
"Well, my daughter Brianna says that you were having some troubles yesterday. You did meet my daughter, correct?"
Brianna was this weirdo's daughter?! No way. Couldn't be. And why would she talk to me? I have no problems…
"Yes, I did."
"Well, she told me about you and since I am a psychiatrist I decided that I would visit you and see what's going on. Free of charge. Free of charge for any of Brianna's friends," Dr. Estrus smiled so that her whole faced crinkled.
Brianna had friends? She'd be lucky to even be friends with Donzig's dog.
"Well, sorry, but uh, nothing's wrong here. Trust me. I'm all good," I exaggerated and tried to sound peppy.
"Really? Because Brianna told me that you were crying and that your boyfriend left you because you had a fight? Is that all right? And then when she went to the bathroom, she saw blood all over the toilet. Hmm? Is this the truth? Care to explain?"
My heart stopped. I couldn't blink. My teeth were clenched together so tightly that I could feel my bottom teeth sinking into my gums. There was no expression on my face. My mind was completely blank.
I opened my mouth.
"I just—I just…Well, um, about me and my boyfriend…he broke up with me. So, yeah, that part is true," it felt like there was something stuck in my throat.
"Um but that blood was because I had my—m-my period. Yeah, so…" I trailed off. I was so proud of myself! I made up an excuse that actually made sense!
"Oh, well that makes sense, about the blood, but…listen. Dr. Jacobsen told me that your leg isn't really completely broken. It's just sprained, maybe a little fracture."
"Huh?! But it hurts so much more! I'm sure it's broken," I struggled.
How could it not be broken? That pain was too strong for it only to be a sprain.
"No, no, Miley. They took an x-ray and it's not much. You'll need to wrap that leg and go on crutches for about a month, but then that's about it. My daughter, Brianna, see, she broke her femur bone in two. It's gonna take roughly four months or more to heal fully."
"So…?" I asked.
"So, Miley. I think that your injury isn't really that painful, but your emotions are. You think that your leg really hurts a million times more than it really does because you're so caught up in stressful situations and emotions. You're emotional pain mixes with the pain from your leg, but you blame the major pain on your leg."
"That's not true. I'm just sensitive."
"Yes, and sensitive perfectionist girls seem to be the ones with the most emotional troubles."
What was I supposed to say to that?
I looked down and let my hair fall over my face so she couldn't see my expression, which by the by, was sad and confused. She was right and I knew it. Yet who would admit that? Not me. Definitely not me.
I could deal with problems. I was an independent, responsible, and a down-to-earth girl. I was an expert at solving problems. Just, the problems I solved weren't mine…
"I'm fine, really. And besides, who wants to confess to a shrink? Then you'll go and analyze what problems I have. I'd much rather just talk to a friend," I knew it sounded mean, but I was in no mood to put on a goody-good girl act. Not even close to a mood like that.
"Miley, you aren't the first to tell me that. Trust me, I know that teenagers like you don't want to tell an adult stranger all of their feelings and…situations and things like of the sort. So that's why my company made a program. A special program where instead of talking to me, you talk to someone your age who most likely can help you out and understand what your going through."
"Okay…"
"So, it's either talking to me or the program. No way out Miley. I know you think I'm torturing you, but you'll thank me in the end," she assured me as if she were 100 sure that I would be "cured" at the end. Yeah right.
"Listen, doctor, if you even are one—You can't stomp into this room and tell me I have to do this stupid program! No one let you in!" I said, ready to stand up if I could.
Dr. Estrus put her hand over mine. Pervert.
"I talked to Dr. Jacobsen about this. He thought it was a fantastic idea. One or other, Miley."
"Fine," I mumbled, "The special program."
Great. Now I would have to participate in this stupid communication program to make your lives better.
"Great! Wonderful, Miley! The forms are in my car. Wait here, I'll be right back in a jiffy."
In a jiffy?! NO one says that! Weirdo.
She practically leapt from her seat and out the door, an even bigger smile stretched across her wrinkled face.
"Miley Stewart?" Dr. Jacobsen poked his head through my door.
"Yeah?" I asked nervously.
"We're going to wrap your leg now, so please get yourself in this wheelchair," he said, revealing his full body and pushing a wheelchair to me.
"Okay," I said carefully, and I cautiously sat myself in the wheelchair.
Dr. Jacobsen wheeled me out into a smaller room with gray walls and a gray plastic chair and a gray plastic waiting table thingy.
Dr. Jacobsen helped me onto the waiting table. I shifted and fidgeted around on the table, making a squeaky noise on the cheap leather, but I was too nervous to stop.
Dr. Jacobsen took out a roll of what looked sort of like white cloth and wrapped it around my leg slowly. He then propped me up on crutches.
"You're going to be using these for a while. About a month. I'll speak to your father so he'll know when he should bring you here to me again so I can check you up."
I hobbled back to my room, where Dr. Estrus was eagerly waiting for me with paper and pen in her hand.
"Here, here, fill this out," she said handing me papers and a ball-point pen.
Full Name: Miley Hope Stewart
Signature: Miley Stewart
Age: 14
School: Sea View Middle School
Phone #: 598-908-0976
Email address: Robby Ray Stewart
Parent/Guardian signature:
"Oh, your going to need to ask your dad to sign that last one," Dr. Estrus said, peering over my shoulder, "Bring that home and then mail it to—better yet. You go to Sea View? Well, what a small world! So does Brianna! You two will be the best of friends! Oh! Well, just give the paper to Brianna and she'll give it to me!"
Oh great. Wonderful. Fantastic. Fabulous. How else could I put it?
A/N: All of her phone numbers and stuff were fake just to let you know... Hope you liked it! I know it's a little boring and all right now but Miley calls Jake in the next chapter! She'll be out of the hospital soon! Promise! Reviews?
