Chapter Thirteen

"I want to get out!" Monica said, throwing her arms into the air.

Chandler walked over to Monica's hospital bed and laughed. "I know, sweetie. Just a little bit more testing, and you're outta here," he said, pointing behind him with his thumb. He kissed Monica's forehead and looked around her. Surrounding her were letters, teddy bears, chocolate boxes, and flowers – mostly from him, Joey, Ross, and Phoebe. "Well, you've got a whole gift shop up here," he teased.

Monica rolled her eyes. "I still don't have one thing," she said, not thinking.

"And what's that?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "Her majesty isn't fully pampered?"

Monica smiled half-heartedly. "I don't have…" you, she wanted to say. She wanted to tell him. She wanted to get it over with, to get it out of her. But what would she say? 'Chandler, I love you, I have for ten years… I'll be moving out now.' "Never mind," she sighed, shaking her head.

Chandler's eyes twinkled. "No, tell me," he replied, sitting at the side of her bed.

"Water, I need water," she replied with a deep sigh. Chandler smiled and shook his head, standing up.

"Yes, your highness," he said, bowing towards Monica. Monica rolled her eyes again and looked after him as he walked out the door to obey her wishes.

"See, we're great together, Chandler," she whispered, longingly gazing at him. "We're great together."

* * *

Monica looked from the door to the window, seeing if a doctor or visitor was coming. When she saw no one, she slowly uncovered her hospital bed sheets and stood onto the cold, multicolored tiled floor. Monica almost tripped over, swaying. She lifted her arms to balance herself, and slowly walked as far as the tubes hooked up to her stretched. She stretched her arms, smiling. For the first time since she was placed in the hospital, Monica felt just a little bit freer than a prisoner.

"I'm normal," she said to herself. "I'm not some 'near suicide victim,' I'm normal." She shook her head, knowing that hearing the words out loud didn't change what had happened. She slowly backed up, looking around her. She tried peering passed the door, but it was half closed. She looked over to the wall and saw a small, square mirror. Slowly, cautiously, she walked over to it.

When she saw her reflection, her smile faded. With trembling hands, Monica touched her face softly, not believing it was her own. When she saw her tangled hair and cuts apparent all over her face, she let in a deep breath. The doctors told her that the knife must have slid and went onto her face when she was unconscious, but she had no idea it cut so deep. There was a big gash across her forehead, and her cheekbone had a slash through it. She traced her fingers across the cuts, tears already forming.

"I did this to myself," she whispered, dropping her hands.

"Mon?"

Startled, Monica swiftly turned around, almost knocking her feet off of the floor. She backed up, trying to cover her tears. "Chandler? What are you doing here?"

"You're not supposed to be standing, Mon… you're supposed to be resting. The only reason the doctors are letting you out is because they think that after a few days' rest you'll be okay. You shouldn't be standing," he said hurriedly, walking towards her.

Monica shook her head, backing up. "No!" she yelled, putting out her hands to stop him. "No, I've been in that bed for too long!"

Chandler walked up to her anyway, stretching out his hands to guide her to the bed. Monica pushed his hands off of her, backing up. "No!" she yelled, causing Chandler to flinch and drop his hands. He looked at her, startled. Monica backed away more, her eyes burning.

"I'm not fragile, I know what's right for me!" she continued, burning a hole through Chandler's eyes. "And don't say you know what's best for me! If you knew what was best for me, you would have come to New York sooner!" All of a sudden, Chandler's eyes dropped to the floor. He felt tears begin to form, but he didn't say anything. Monica ignored the look of torture in his eyes, too angry to even care. "Chandler, I worry about me. I'm the only one that knows what I think, how I feel. You can't know what's best for me… because I feel like you barely even know me anymore." Monica stopped suddenly, looking at Chandler. "Just – don't tell me you want what's best for me. If you really did, you would understand how difficult this is for me."

Chandler looked up, wiping the tears from his eyes. His eyes narrowed, and fury replaced guilt. "How difficult this is for you?" he replied, his voice just as loud and shrill as Monica's. "Do you think this has been a trip around the park for me?" He stepped closer to Monica. "You did this to yourself, and we've had to worry about you day and night! You almost killed yourself, Monica! And we've been living through hell worrying!"

"What would you know, Chandler?" Monica asked. "You don't know why I did this to myself. You don't know why. And… like I said before… I worry about me. I'm a big girl!"

"Mon, it doesn't matter! You did this to yourself, and we worry no matter what! I just can't believe how selfish you're being!" He stepped closer to Monica; all feelings of torture and pain vanished.

Monica looked at Chandler, hurt. "I'm being selfish? What about you? You didn't care when I left… you didn't even call." Monica looked at Chandler, backing away. But Chandler stepped closer to her, not bothering to care about the hurt look on her face.

"You're the one that left." He stepped closer to her and frowned, his eyes still narrowed. "You're going to get in bed, you have to." His voice was hard, not at all like his usual self. He stepped closer to Monica and grabbed her wrists tightly, forgetting her condition. Monica screamed in pain, tears falling down her cheeks. Chandler quickly let go, realizing the pain he caused her and stood back, shocked by what he did. Monica backed away, still facing Chandler. Chandler stepped forward to Monica, holding out his arms. "Monica – I – I'm so-"

"Get away from me!" she yelped, holding her hands out in front of her. She felt the salty tears trickle down her face and the cuts at her wrists burning. She stared at him, feeling betrayed and more hurt than ever. "Leave."

Chandler tried to step towards Monica, but she backed away more. "Monica…"

"Get out!" she yelled, pointing at the door. She gasped for breath, suddenly feeling lightheaded. She stumbled around, her vision blurring. She put her hands out to balance herself.

Chandler worriedly walked over to her. "Mon?" he whispered.

Monica finally managed to stand up straight, her eyes burning, this time with fear. "Leave," she mumbled, her voice as solid as rock. She looked away from him, suddenly afraid of him.

"Mon, don't – I didn't mean to…"

"Get out!" she said in her loudest voice possible. Chandler sighed, feeling the guilt and pain rush back to him. But he slouched over his shoulders and walked out the door, glancing behind him before he exited.

What he saw tore at his heart. Monica stood there, holding her wrists, pain and fear evident in her eyes. He saw tears stream down her face, and he saw her trembling. She was hurt, physically and emotionally. And it was because of him… her best friend.

Chandler walked out of the door, feeling even worse than when she was unconscious.

* * *

"Yummy… breakfast!" a nurse said brightly as she passed a tray to Monica. Monica sighed, making a face.

"Yummy?" she repeated, looking away from the nurse. The nurse laughed and forced the tray in her hands. Monica stared at the unappetizing meal, groaning in disgust. "I'm not hungry."

The nurse shook her head. "You have to eat… you haven't been eating in days." She grabbed the spoon and forced some of the food in Monica's mouth. Monica spit it out, not bothering to notice the mess it left.

"No," she said stubbornly. She looked away, wanting to be alone. Suddenly, she looked at the nurse and frowned, tears in her eyes. The nurse, seeing the tears in her eyes, sighed.

"If you really don't want to…" she said, exasperated.

Monica shook her head. "No – that's not why…" Monica stopped and let out a deep sigh. "Have you ever been betrayed?" she whispered, catching the nurse by surprise. The nurse looked at her, startled.

"I – I'm not sure I understand," she replied. She looked at Monica, confused. Monica looked away and out the door. She almost could picture Chandler sitting in the waiting room. She quickly turned away.

"Has anyone ever betrayed you?" she repeated, her voice not as shaky this time. The nurse nodded her head uncertainly.

"Sure. I – I had a best friend that went out with the guy I had a huge crush on," the nurse said, looking at Monica strangely. "Why?"

"Then – then you know what it feels like?" Monica said, ignoring the nurse's question. "You know what it feels like… when someone you love hurts you?" She dropped her gaze to her folded hands, which fidgeted nervously. She furiously wiped her eyes.

"Yeah, I do." The nurse stood up from the bed, taking the tray with her. "You sure you don't want to finish?"

"Did – did you ever get over it? Did you – forgive her?" Monica asked, her eyes red. The nurse shrugged.

"I honestly don't remember… it's been years." The nurse began walking out the door, not saying another word.

"Thanks for the help," Monica retorted bitterly. She uncovered herself, looking at her cut wrists. She let out one last sigh and threw her head onto the pillows.

* * *

Ross walked over to Monica's door and slightly knocked.

"Can I come in?" he asked, peeking in. When he saw Monica nod, Ross walked over to her bed and sat on the edge. "How's it going?" he whispered. Monica shrugged, trying hard not to look him in the eye. "Are you okay?" he tried again.

Monica shrugged once more. "You know," she simply replied. She looked around, anywhere but into Ross's eyes.

"Come on," Ross pleaded, "say something."

Monica finally looked at Ross, tears in her eyes yet again. "He hurt me," she whispered, her voice cracking. Ross looked at Monica sympathetically. He put his arms around her shoulders and squeezed them.

"I know," Ross said. "I know… but… he didn't mean it."

Monica looked at him, upset. "He didn't mean to grab my wrists? So someone forced him to?" Monica rested her head on Ross's shoulder. "So he didn't mean to ignore me and my feelings when he yelled at me?"

Ross sighed. "He was just upset. He didn't mean to." Ross stroked Monica's silky hair and kissed it softly. "He loves you… you're his best friend."

Monica broke apart from her brother's embrace and looked at him with tears rolling down her face. "I don't care," she said. She buried her hands in her face.

"Let him see you… let him talk to you."

Monica shook her head quickly, looking up. "No. I never want to see Chandler again." She looked up, her eyes cold.

"I hate him."

To be continued…

Once again… I know this wasn't that good of a chapter, and it took just a little less than a month to post… sorry! I'm going to try to make the chapters better and come quicker… I promise. Do you want me to continue? Let me know… review!