There's something wrong with Phoebe

8 - Phoebe

I rubbed my cheeks a little as my family left. The constant smiling had hurt, and I’d started to get worried it had appeared as false as it had felt. My siblings had continued to grin back at me, but my Dad had just sort of stared at me. It was a bit creepy, but I’d played up to it, hugging him and being interested in everything. They’d all bought it spectacularly. I’d be home before I knew it, ready to prove Jack proud. I just had to meet my Mum again, and gradually recover mentally, as I knew I was meant to be damaged.

My stomach rumbled and I lifted up the hospital gown I wore to frown at it, before noticed how flabby it was looking. I checked nobody was looking, and cocked my head to hear any nearby footsteps before I lay my head back on the pillow and began to do sit ups. It was far harder than it had been a month ago. I knew Jack said it was a precaution but I’d been in such great shape, and who was going to see my stomach anyway? I’d gotten to one hundred and fifty crunches before I collapsed and patted my belly. I was extremely hungry now. How long was I supposed to keep us this, ‘I’m too sad to eat’ attitude? I was craving baked beans as well.

The nurse came in, smiling, and I weakly smiled back. “Any food for you, dear?” she said.

“Yes please,” I replied. “Do you have any…they’re…oh yeah, beans!”

“Yes we do,” she said, laughing. “Baked beans with what?”

“Chips,” I suggested, and she laughed some more.

“Sure,” she said. “I’m glad you’ve got a bit of an appetite back.”

“Does this mean I can go home soon?” I said eagerly. “I want to see my room and my family and stuff.”

“I spoke to the doctors, and we don’t see why you can’t leave at the end of the week. People heal better at home with their loved ones.” I nodded.

“Will I have to keep coming back? To the hospital?”

“I expect they’ll probably be trips just to check how you’re doing.” I nodded.

“And what will happen to my life?”

“What do you mean?” I frowned, thinking.

“What am I supposed to do? At this age, a girl is either at university, working at a supermarket or knocked up.” The nurse laughed, and as I inspected her name tag, I saw she was called Julie.

“Not always true but…I don’t know. Although, with the money your parents won a few years back, I don’t see why you’d have to work.”

“I’m backwards in my education. I haven’t learnt anything since I was thirteen. I can’t pick up from there exactly.”

“Normally what happens with our patients who have had some sort of disease meaning they couldn’t go to school was that they chose something they were interested in to study, or they got a home tutor to get them through the basic examinations.”

“So I should pick something I like?”

“Yes,” said Julie.

“I don’t really know if I like anything anymore.”

“Well…what did you like when you were thirteen?”

“Julie, when you were nineteen, did you like the same things as you did when you were thirteen? Still fancy the same movie star? Listen to the same songs?”

“You make a good point,” Julie said, sitting down in the visitor’s chair. She knew this conversation wouldn’t be short. “Well, what did you do when you were at his house?”

“In between the beatings and abuse?” I said, raising one eyebrow.

“Yes, well they couldn’t have been constant,” Julie said.

“I watched the TV. It was a good place to put me. I’d just sit there.”

“Watch any educational programmes?”

“Mainly just BBC1 or ITV1. He only had the basic channels. I just fell asleep most of the time.”

“I see,” Julie replied. “Well, if you don’t have any interests, maybe you should find some new ones? When you get out of here, honey, I prescribe one thing to you – live.” I grinned as she said it, just as she did. “Do whatever you want! The world if your oyster! Have you ever had a drink?” I shook my head. “Do that! Spend a load of money on a lavish holiday. Go scuba diving! Go skiing! Anything you want!”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” I said, not able to conceal my excitement. “Thanks, Julie.”

“I’m only here to make people feel better. Doesn’t matter if I’m talking to my patients or connecting them up to a drip. It all helps.” I was left smiling as she exited the room, and then a little deflated. All the things she said, I could never do. I’d genuinely started to think it was possible, and I had options after I got out of here. There was only one thing I was to do. It had been drummed into my head for the past few years to make sure I remembered it. I shouldn’t let the joys of a typical human lifestyle entice me. I was special.