The Last Note

Chapter 3- Hopes

I start to tear up, and then the man suddenly gets up, pulls me out from under the desk, and puts me on the bed.

He had longish, light brown hair, he was wearing a plaid shirt, jeans, he was tall and charming. He was around 30 years old, youth was still filled in his eyes.

"Hey listen I know how you are feeling. But listen I can help." He says, his voice sounding softer than before.

"You don't understand," I say and duck my head and cover it with my hands. The man lifts up my head and holds it up which he rolls up one sleeve.

His wrist is covered in scars. He then lets go of my head abruptly and my head drops. I sit there quietly and then put my head in the previous position, in my knees. "Why'd did you do it?"

"Why did you do it? I know why I did and you don't need to know, but you need to find why you are doing this to yourself," the man says soothingly.

My mind wanders as I think not about myself, but the man. He can't be gay, and he's too big to be anorexic, or bulimic. He's nice, actually quite handsome, so he should get the girls easily.

The man lifts up my head once more, and looks me in the eyes, which I end up closing so the tears will soak up. "Stop thinking about me," he whispers, "you need to find what's wrong inside you... Only you." He lifts my thin, limp body back to the correct position on the bed, puts the covers over me and turns out the lights. As he walks out, the tears just slowly drip down my cheeks as my mind goes blank.

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The doctor walks in the room and pulls a chair up to my bed. Not that I can see him, but I hear the chair scrape against the cold floor. "You know you can't stay in here forever," he says stupidly. I guess I was ignorant to the fact that I couldn't hide myself forever. And the fact that my mind has arisen to the unexciting conclusion made my heart beat faster.

My muscles, my bones, and my scars hurt. I kept trying to pull out the stitches, but apparently every time I moved a lot, some machine would beep and a doctor would rush in and have to fix what I had done.

"And I know that you want to go home. And I know you know that isn't possible at this point in time."

My mom is just going to bitch when she sees me. Saying how much the hospital bills are and how crazy a thing to do. All she does is bitch at me. Just me. Nobody else. Me.

"Harry!" The doctor says raising his voice, trying to get a response or my head out of the clouds.

My stomach growls and I frown. I guess I haven't been eating lately. Why would I want to eat? All the food tastes gross and I'd throw it up even if they made me eat it. They try to fatten me up to make me feel better, when they obviously know it will make me worse. Now I'm not anorexic or whatnot, but my portions could be a lot bigger than they were at home.

"Where where the hell am I supposed to go? I'm not going back to the hell of a place called 'home' so what the freak are you going to do about it?" I yell at him.

"Harry." The doctor sighs, "it's not what you think."

You left my hopes high, I think to myself sarcastically. Even though I felt the opposite. I pick my stitches quietly. Not to make any moments. I pull one out and make a quiet whimpering noise and blood comes oozing out - again. I accidentally got it on the sheets and the doctor pulls off the covers and quickly gets two nurses.

One nurse, a male who is very strong, holds me down. His grip is was way too tight for a wimpy teenage boy. The other nurse, a woman, helps the doctor fix up my mistake. Last time I completely lost it and ran into the bathroom and locked myself in. It doesn't help that they have a set of keys on their lanyards.

When they finished stitching me back up, my mother came in the room. Her eyes were red and puffy, but no tears came out of her eyes. I stared blankly at the ceiling and I just left my arm for her to see the stitches. I didn't move, not a flinch. She tried to get me out of it, or make me answer her, but I ignored her. She turned on the television to my 'favorite' show. Which obviously she doesn't know me.

She tried talking to me about my sister and brother. My brother was worried about me and my sister was in tears. I believe it, but I don't give a shit. She also said that my school has work for me. Which is stupid cause I'm not going to do it anyway.

She then gets frustrated at her failed attempts to communicate, she turns off the television, and leaves.

I pull out the stitches once more, but before I do that, I pull off my heart monitor stickers off my chest and hide in the big oblong cabinet. As the blood oozes out, I lean my head back. My head starts to spin and I hear a slam of a door and footsteps stomping everywhere. The darkness is pleasing, but all of the sudden, the cabinet opens and my body is yanked out and placed on the bed. People start to come rushing in, machines are beeping furiously and stickers are placed back on my chest. My vision goes blank as screams erupt the room.

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