Chapter 17
I open my eyes and stare over Jason's shoulder. At first everything is blurry-- my sight coming from under a thin layer of tears. Soon everything comes into focus, and my eyes are dry--
So are my cheeks.
Despite my outburst, I have yet to shed a tear.
He pulls back, searching out my eyes. It doesn't matter-- he won't find anything there. He settles back on the bed his hands clenching mine. Somewhere in me his compassion and understanding registers, and suddenly I want to vomit.
"Listen Em-- It was--"
"A fire."
We both freeze at my completion of his sentence. Slowly my eyes lift to his, but I still can't see him. He's looking at me with open confusion-- his brow furrowing like a pug-faced puppy.
"How did you--"
"I want this out."
I divert my attention from him down to my arm and start pulling on the IV cord trailing out of my flesh. I can feel the needle moving inside my arm and I secretly revel in the pain. I can finally feel something-- something I deserve to feel.
Jason's hands come quickly to rest over mine, stopping them.
"Em-- Em! You really shouldn't take this out until the doctors say it's okay--"
Oh, this coming from the man who tried to escape from the hospital the day after he was shot.....
"I want it out."
My voice sounds wobbly.
"Em--"
"Either you help me take it out or I take it out myself."
That time I sounded stronger thank god. I'm tired of sounding so pathetic all the time even if I am. I watch Jason struggle with it for a minute, then he sighs, resigned.
"Fine."
His hands guide over my arm, pressing lightly on my tender flesh while he slips the needle out. He works quickly, professionally-- and I don't doubt for a second he has no idea what he's doing. It's simply another one of those vague pieces of information he had loaded into his brain before he existed-- Another thing I envy. The ability without knowing. To live a life without struggle and pain to gain knowledge.
I learned something new today: I learned what it feels like to die inside. I wish I had already known it..... I wish it was like Jason's medicine-- just something buried deep in my mind-- so deep it didn't hurt me. So deep I didn't realize it was there, but nonetheless present..... I wouldn't have to learn it then. I'd already know how it felt. I could just be dead inside.
"Is that better?"
I simply nod and stare at the slight deformity the void of the IV has left in my arm.
"What do you need?"
'I need, I need....' I can hear it in my own voice in my head over and over again and for some reason the only picture that comes to mind are the outstretched grubby arms of a child, fingers flexing and contracting-- groping at thin air.
A small bead of dark red blood has formed on my arm.
What I need-- is not this life.
"I need to be alone."
Jason is staring at me with an open concern that would normally make me uncomfortable.
Fortunately I can't feel anything.
"Em-- Maybe that's not such a--"
"Jason, please--"
My voice has taken on a whiny, desperate quality, and I hope to god he gives soon so I don't have to listen to myself. His mouth clamps into a tight line, and he gives two quick nods. He stands and walks abruptly to the door-- pausing to look back once more for confirmation.
I muster my voice for one final call.
"Jase-- I'm not ready to wake up yet."
He nods again and closes the door behind him.
The room is silent again, and somewhere I can hear ticking. My eyes search the room for the source, but come up empty. There are no clocks in this room, no watches-- no sense of time except the ticking in my head. Hallow, echoing ticking in my head-- powerful ticking that sends jolts through my blood, makes my fingertips pulse and my skin hurt.
"What if I don't want to forget?"
I hear his voice so loud, I'm certain he's next to my ear-- but when I bolt up in bed I'm alone. How long have I been alone? I don't know..... I suppose the answer depends on if I'm asking metaphorically or not......
"I love you."
It's so deep in my head the words literally hurt. I clamp my hands to the sides of my head and start the type of rocking typical of mental ward patients.
Dear god-- I really am losing my mind.
There's no air left in the room-- I'm certain of it, and I feel my body begin to heave with the struggle for oxygen. I let myself slide off the bed, disregarding my inability to stand, and somehow suffer my way to the window. It's raining-- but I can't see outside. I can't even see my own reflection--
I see his.
The night he stood at this window-- the night I told him to forget. The night left indiscernible to both of us-- when he stood at this window, tears on his cheeks-- his inner thoughts as mysterious to me as mine to him.
And again, something surfaces from deep inside my mind-- a song. I used to listen to it as background when I did my homework-- but here it is-- words I didn't know I knew surfacing. I close my eyes a moment and let myself be lulled by the rhythm.
'There's no one to catch me' I think as my hands, by their own accord, reach up and push the window open.
I guess the comatose patients don't get the full 'precautionary' measures the other mental patients get.......
The wind blows in, and I close my eyes, letting it caress my face. It feels fresh and clean against my hospital-worn skin. For a brief moment I entertain the thought of it lifting and carrying me away-- far away.
And that's when I realize I'm getting wet-- the rain is soaking through my hospital gown.
I let myself rock forward onto my toes, my vision sliding off the ledge to the street six stories below. I feel a wave of exhilaration sweep over my numbed body and I rock forward again-- my arms stretched out on either side of me and let myself waiver there a moment. I can almost feel the muscles in my legs, tensing, preparing to leap-- and the feeling of the air rushing under me as I soar above the buildings-- as I feel the soft cool kiss of the clouds-- as I fly away from everything I've ever known....
He's not here to catch me-- and I have nothing left to lose if I fall.
It's time to fly.
I open my eyes and stare over Jason's shoulder. At first everything is blurry-- my sight coming from under a thin layer of tears. Soon everything comes into focus, and my eyes are dry--
So are my cheeks.
Despite my outburst, I have yet to shed a tear.
He pulls back, searching out my eyes. It doesn't matter-- he won't find anything there. He settles back on the bed his hands clenching mine. Somewhere in me his compassion and understanding registers, and suddenly I want to vomit.
"Listen Em-- It was--"
"A fire."
We both freeze at my completion of his sentence. Slowly my eyes lift to his, but I still can't see him. He's looking at me with open confusion-- his brow furrowing like a pug-faced puppy.
"How did you--"
"I want this out."
I divert my attention from him down to my arm and start pulling on the IV cord trailing out of my flesh. I can feel the needle moving inside my arm and I secretly revel in the pain. I can finally feel something-- something I deserve to feel.
Jason's hands come quickly to rest over mine, stopping them.
"Em-- Em! You really shouldn't take this out until the doctors say it's okay--"
Oh, this coming from the man who tried to escape from the hospital the day after he was shot.....
"I want it out."
My voice sounds wobbly.
"Em--"
"Either you help me take it out or I take it out myself."
That time I sounded stronger thank god. I'm tired of sounding so pathetic all the time even if I am. I watch Jason struggle with it for a minute, then he sighs, resigned.
"Fine."
His hands guide over my arm, pressing lightly on my tender flesh while he slips the needle out. He works quickly, professionally-- and I don't doubt for a second he has no idea what he's doing. It's simply another one of those vague pieces of information he had loaded into his brain before he existed-- Another thing I envy. The ability without knowing. To live a life without struggle and pain to gain knowledge.
I learned something new today: I learned what it feels like to die inside. I wish I had already known it..... I wish it was like Jason's medicine-- just something buried deep in my mind-- so deep it didn't hurt me. So deep I didn't realize it was there, but nonetheless present..... I wouldn't have to learn it then. I'd already know how it felt. I could just be dead inside.
"Is that better?"
I simply nod and stare at the slight deformity the void of the IV has left in my arm.
"What do you need?"
'I need, I need....' I can hear it in my own voice in my head over and over again and for some reason the only picture that comes to mind are the outstretched grubby arms of a child, fingers flexing and contracting-- groping at thin air.
A small bead of dark red blood has formed on my arm.
What I need-- is not this life.
"I need to be alone."
Jason is staring at me with an open concern that would normally make me uncomfortable.
Fortunately I can't feel anything.
"Em-- Maybe that's not such a--"
"Jason, please--"
My voice has taken on a whiny, desperate quality, and I hope to god he gives soon so I don't have to listen to myself. His mouth clamps into a tight line, and he gives two quick nods. He stands and walks abruptly to the door-- pausing to look back once more for confirmation.
I muster my voice for one final call.
"Jase-- I'm not ready to wake up yet."
He nods again and closes the door behind him.
The room is silent again, and somewhere I can hear ticking. My eyes search the room for the source, but come up empty. There are no clocks in this room, no watches-- no sense of time except the ticking in my head. Hallow, echoing ticking in my head-- powerful ticking that sends jolts through my blood, makes my fingertips pulse and my skin hurt.
"What if I don't want to forget?"
I hear his voice so loud, I'm certain he's next to my ear-- but when I bolt up in bed I'm alone. How long have I been alone? I don't know..... I suppose the answer depends on if I'm asking metaphorically or not......
"I love you."
It's so deep in my head the words literally hurt. I clamp my hands to the sides of my head and start the type of rocking typical of mental ward patients.
Dear god-- I really am losing my mind.
There's no air left in the room-- I'm certain of it, and I feel my body begin to heave with the struggle for oxygen. I let myself slide off the bed, disregarding my inability to stand, and somehow suffer my way to the window. It's raining-- but I can't see outside. I can't even see my own reflection--
I see his.
The night he stood at this window-- the night I told him to forget. The night left indiscernible to both of us-- when he stood at this window, tears on his cheeks-- his inner thoughts as mysterious to me as mine to him.
And again, something surfaces from deep inside my mind-- a song. I used to listen to it as background when I did my homework-- but here it is-- words I didn't know I knew surfacing. I close my eyes a moment and let myself be lulled by the rhythm.
'There's no one to catch me' I think as my hands, by their own accord, reach up and push the window open.
I guess the comatose patients don't get the full 'precautionary' measures the other mental patients get.......
The wind blows in, and I close my eyes, letting it caress my face. It feels fresh and clean against my hospital-worn skin. For a brief moment I entertain the thought of it lifting and carrying me away-- far away.
And that's when I realize I'm getting wet-- the rain is soaking through my hospital gown.
I let myself rock forward onto my toes, my vision sliding off the ledge to the street six stories below. I feel a wave of exhilaration sweep over my numbed body and I rock forward again-- my arms stretched out on either side of me and let myself waiver there a moment. I can almost feel the muscles in my legs, tensing, preparing to leap-- and the feeling of the air rushing under me as I soar above the buildings-- as I feel the soft cool kiss of the clouds-- as I fly away from everything I've ever known....
He's not here to catch me-- and I have nothing left to lose if I fall.
It's time to fly.