Somewhere In Between // Niall Horan

Chapter 19: Grow Up

❝ You need not be sorry for her. She was one of the kind that likes to grow up. In the end she grew up of her own free will a day quicker than the other girls. ❞

~~~

March 2, 2013

California

    This was not home.

   Whitney sighed and rolled over onto her back.  Staring up at the ceiling of Mrs. Howard’s guest room, she rested her hands on her stomach and resisted blinking until her eyeballs felt like they were going to burst.  Mrs. Howard’s house smelled like a typical old person’s house with Vicks and cheap perfume tainting the air.  Whitney wasn’t complaining, though.  After weeks (years, rather, but who’s counting?) in a stuffy, secluded hospital room, Dr. Riess finally released her yesterday on the condition that she would be under 24/7 supervision.  Mrs. Howard graciously volunteered.  At least, until Whitney’s mom could fly out; she had to find someone to take care of Whitney’s grandparents before coming to see her daughter at home in California.

   But this was not home.

   Actually, Whitney was kept in the hospital for a much longer time than other drug-induced coma patients.  The initial reason for her prolonged stay was because her very long coma made Whitney walking medical mystery.  The doctors and nurses just couldn’t figure it out.

    "She OD’ed on antidepressants.  The longest she should’ve been in a coma is a couple of days.  Why was she asleep for three years?” they whispered to each other while shooting glances at the girl in the hospital bed.

   Whitney knew the answer, obviously, but medical experts didn’t normally accept I-was-stuck-in-a-place-somewhere-in-between-sleep-and-awake-and-couldn’t-wake-up-until-that-guy-from-the-boy-band-got-into-a-coma-because-there’s-this-really-weird-combination-system-and-he-was-my-match as a logical explanation.  So she kept quiet until the guys in the white coats shook their heads, shrugged, and said something along the lines of, “Well, she looks healthy.”  And then they let her go home.

   Where was home, though?  Whitney often wondered while lazily counting the stripes on Mrs. Howard’s curtains.  The house next door was where she lived all her life, but was it home anymore?  She hadn’t been there in a long time, and only bad memories popped up whenever she thought about it.  Plus, she didn’t like the “Home is where the heart/family/food is” bullshit.  Her family was broken and scattered over the country, and food still made her nauseated after not properly eating for three years.  And her heart?  Simply put, it was taken from her.  Snatched away.  Stolen.  Whitney wasn’t exactly sure when she last had it, but she had a hunch as to who took it.  And he sure as hell wasn’t returning it anytime soon.

   A shiver coursed through Whitney’s body.  She rolled onto her side and curled her legs up into a fetal position, trying to ward away the memories.  She hated the thoughts that reminded her of everything.  Throughout her hospital stay and recovery, she pushed aside any slight recollection of...well.  Whitney scrunched her eyes and sucked in a gulp of air.  She had to stop thinking about it.  Stop, stop, stop.