The Last Note

Chapter 4: Always Too Late

I wake up in a daze. I can't move my limbs, my eyes barely open as much as I expected them to. I cough weakly and turn my head slowly to the left and see a blood bag hanging next to me. It's dark out, but a gut feeling knows its not the same night. I circle my ankles to hear a familiar clicking noise. My head starts to spin and I close my eyes.

I could've made it worse than this. I should've too. My eyes pop open fully and the bright light above me hurts as it stings my eyes. I find the remote and turn off the lights, all of them, and call a nurse. I place my remote under my thigh and close my eyes.

The nurse comes in and tries to "wake" me. After a couple minutes a doctor comes in to check on me. I kept my eyes closed and went along with it anyway. "I know your up," he finally speaks. I realize that it is the same man from before. He sits down on the chair once more and starts to talk. "That was a hell of a move you made kid. You could've killed yourself there."

"Well maybe if I did you wouldn't have to deal with me anymore," I answer.

"Harold...," he starts. I quickly get offended, hating the names my parents given me.

"Harry," I quickly correct him. "I hate that name. And I hate you."

"Rebellious little mate, eh?" the doctor chuckles obnoxiously. "But back to our subject. 'Harry', your going to be out under more intimate care. Right now you are in the ICU, and you will be moving to another room in about a week, then for another week you'll stay there until you'll be moved to the attachment to the hospital for almost a year: rehab."

The ICU? Damn I was so close this time, maybe next time I'll be in a funeral home. But rehab? I hate my life as it is, now I have to go through that hell? I look at my arm to see it has a cast around it. "What the hell did you do to my arm?" I ask horrified. The itchy gauze wrapped snug around my arm and the hardened bright green molding on top.

"We stitched it up, wrapped it in medical cream and gauze, and then casted it so you can't almost kill yourself again. You have to get a new cast everyday, but your parents are willing to pay the costs."

"Tell my parents they can go screw themselves. I don't want to see them again, they're half the reason I'm in here today," I hiss at the doctor.

"Harry you need to calm down and rest. You had to get an emergency blood transfusion and your probably grouchy from all the pain killers and sedatives we had to give you."

The doctor gets up and walks out of the room, shutting the lights off behind him. "Fuck you," I mumble under my breath as he closes the door. I close my eyes and fall into a deep, relaxing sleep.

__________________________

She came, and so did he. They both came, but I didn't talk to them. I didn't even glance at them. They tried to get my attention, but they're half the reason why I was here. So what they are paying the bills? So what they care about me know when I'm practically on my death bed? They always blamed everything on me before. All the shit that happened was my fault. I never cried so I obviously did it. I was the lier in their minds.

So now they want to talk to me? Now they want to reason with me? Now they want to help me? Well now is too late. It's always going to be late for things. "It's never too late," that's a lie. Things are due. People have places to go, things to see. Things to do, things to catch, things to learn, things to mess up, things will always be too late. And now they're too late.

And they can't do anything about it.

I won't let them do anything about it.

I don't want them to do anything about it.

They obviously know my problems now. They know why I wasn't eating much. They know why I was taking forever in the bathroom, always going to the drug store. But now that they know, it's too late.

Because things will always be too late to fix, and I'm not turning back. Like that last mistake you fixed on your project, only made it a bigger mistake. And that only mistake you made a while ago, but you thought it was different now. Or that time when you know you can change something, but you don't. You don't do it because you gave up

Like I did.

People may call me stubborn, they may call me unforgiving, they can call me anything they want.

But I was obstinate for too long, I was forgiving for too long, and there's no going back. Because I waited for things to change. I waited to stop being blamed. To stop being yelled at. To stop being critiqued. I waited.

But that time never came. And they may want to change that now. But it's too late. And I know they are only changing because they want me to be okay. They want me to change. They want me to be who I was.

They still gave their pride and effort to my siblings. They still gave it to them. Even when they had another son. Because they have one if they didn't know.

They take more care of the dog than they do to me. They always check up on him and whatnot. Others may say that it's not true, but they don't know what goes on in the mind of one like me.

They may call me depressed, or anxious. And I may be, but they can't just think that. Only one who is in the situation of the problems, and in the mind of the problems would understand what the real definition of "anxious" or "depressed".

But that's not me anymore. I've changed, and they are just going to have to deal with my fate. Because they know how it's going to end. Someday, sometime, and somewhere.

Because it's always too late.

__________________________

"Harry?" A familiar voice comes about. A female voice?

I slowly open my eyes to the blinding bright light to see a figure hovering over me. My vision clears as I see a blonde headed girl from my school appear over me. I almost faint when I realize I used to have a crush, and maybe still did have a crush on her.

"What?" I moan as I wipe my eyes. I couldn't care any of the less about what I looked like at the moment.

"Are you okay?" She asks dumbly. Her long, straight blond hair fell from her shoulders. Her bright smile lit up the room.

"Does it look like I'm okay?" I ask. "I'm in the freaking hospital!"

"Everyone in school is talking about you. And I just wanted to say that they had an assembly. They didn't say your name but they told everyone to stop spreading rumors about people which they didn't know was true. I was here wondering if you could tell me what happened?"

"Why would I tell you?" I say. "So you can tell everyone at school what a screw up I am?"

"No, I'm worried about you," she says. A smile lightly crooks up from the corners of my lips.

"Harry," she giggles.

"What?" I ask back as a smile lights up my face the first time in a while.

"Harry!" She yells inches away from my face, her figure disappearing.

"What?!?" I desperately yell back at her, trying to reach for her descending body.

__________________________

"Harry!" The person shakes me awake. The man from before, (The one with the scars in about his thirties) rocks me gently as I awake with a startle.

"A fucking dream," I sigh as my expectations drop even lower. Dreams are just a way to get your hopes high. Because they never come true. No matter how much you try to make them become true.

"Forget about the dream, I'm here to talk to you," the man says.

"About what?"

He shuts the door and sits down and sighs. I have a feeling this is not good news.