Chapter 1

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A/N: This work is under intensive revision. Ignore this work for the mean time. Apologies for the inconvenience.

Woebegone – Chapter 1

        T H E   D A R K E S T   H O U R

Travis

                My mind was spinning, unable to fully concentrate. As I ran across the hallway, I watched my dear sister's motionless body lying on the bed, clinging at the brink of death. Her pale face was spilling over with grief. Blood was seeping out of her wrists, staining the white sheets. The clock struck midnight, the dawn of emergencies.

                “You're going to be okay, Tiffany!” I urged, my hand holding onto hers as I ran with the doctors and nurses beside me.

                She didn't respond but instead showed a grimaced face. “She doesn't want to live anymore...” The thought lingered in my mind. “She's losing herself.”

                As the persons in charge went ahead to the ER, a nurse instructed me to simply wait outside. With no other choice, I followed her command. What else could I do?

                Like other moments of exasperation, the time moved much slower tonight. Who knew many times I walked back and forth across the hallway? My mind was whirring with ideas and speculations the entire time. I could feel my heart racing; and my palms were all sweaty, preventing me from getting drowsy. “How long are they going to take?!”I screamed inside my head, desperate for answers. As the minutes passed, her chances of living were slipping up.

                Upon seeing the light on top of the door turn green, I stood up right away and drew closer, eager to find out the results. The doors swung open, and bright light shone through. Finally, the moment of truth.

                Nervousness and anxiety dissipated upon seeing my sister, alive and well. I breathed a sigh of relief. The first thing I noticed was the bandage wrapped around her wrist and the dextrose attached to her other hand. Her clothes were no longer the bloodstained ones; they had been changed to the ghostly white ones that other patients wore. I followed the doctors and nurses to what seemed to be Tiffany's room. Together, they carried her feeble body to her new bed with peach-colored sheets. After the staff left, only four people remained — me, her, a doctor, and a nurse.

                “Her detox operation is successful,” the male doctor announced as he pulled out a chart from the front side of the bed. “However, I'm afraid we have to carefully observe her behavior when she wakes up.”

                “Of course...” I replied, my voice weak and soft. Glancing at my fifteen-year-old sister, I gently ran my fingers through her caramel-colored hair.

                “Name please,” requested the doctor while filling out a form of some sort.

                “Travis Oliver,” I replied as I attempted to comb my sister's hair.

                “And her?” he asked, pointing his pen at my sister.

                “Tiffany Oliver. She's my younger sister,” I answered, my face droopy.

                After filling out the form, the doctor asked the nurse to fetch something. I sat on the stool beside the bed the entire time, my attention focused on my sleeping sister. After a while, the nurse came back with a folder containing documents and records. On the front said Tiffany Oliver in capital, bold letters.

                I watched him read through the pages. Eventually, the doctor closed the folder and removed his glasses before speaking up, “She has been to this hospital quite a number of times. All of them with several reasons — suicide attempts. Would you like her to be transferred to the intensive care division?”

                I gave no reply. This was the first time I was given a choice like this. Intensive care, huh...? It sounded really helpful towards my sister; but at the same time, it was quite costly. It wasn't ignorance — it was reluctance. To go or not to go? That was the question. Hospital bills were tremendous. Every time I bring her here, my pocket gets shot. In no time, we would go completely broke. All I have with me right now are some coins and bills which are barely even enough to pay for a day's room.  But I wanted to know the truth, and her health was more important than our food.

                “Go on ahead,” I finally decided after pondering for a minute. At the back of my head, I told myself that I'll pay it off somehow. Now wasn't the time to be thinking about it, though.

                The doctor called for the nurses, and they brought her to the intensive care division. It was located at the building next to the hospital. We took the elevator and reached the third floor before heading to the first room available. The moment I saw the room, I felt like nothing much changed, to be honest. Maybe the only difference was the bed quality, floor tiles, and the wallpaper. I mean, I didn't find it any grander or anything...

                “Did I make the right choice?” I asked him, feeling ripped off.

                “Yes, of course,” answered the doctor, just as what I expected from him. I figured that he'd say that for the sake of money; but for now, I won't picture him like that... Then he looked at his watch and added, “It's awfully late... Go to sleep okay?”

                “Wait, what?” I said, startled. I didn't remember staying in my previous visits. Last time, I was allowed to bring her home; but maybe that was the case because it was still early.

                “You're to watch over her,” he ordered, raising his eyebrow before continuing. “What? You expect the nurses to guard her all night? No, we need a family member to do that.” He handed me a pillow that could barely support my head’s size. As he waved goodbye, he spoke some final words, “There's a phone on the wall if you need to call a staff person. The restrooms are just next door. Water dispenser’s outside. And please, try to wake up before she does.”

                “Okay...?” I replied, still trying to digest everything he just told me. I looked at the clock. It was one-thirty. His last line troubled me, since I was a deep sleeper. So, I asked him one last thing just to be sure, “What if I don't?”

                “Then, it's your fault if she does it again,” he responded with a shrug and exited the room. I sighed, feeling annoyed. He was the freaking doctor, and he shoved everything to my hands. “He’s nuts!” I wanted to burst out. And the way he spoke, and his behavior... They were all awkward and gave him the impression of a lazy doctor. Was he lying the entire time? We had just met, and I already hated him. But of course, I had to respect authority; so I shoved the bitterness and anger down my throat, liked it or not.

                In eight hours, the school gates would be opening again. Meanwhile, I was alone with my sister at the hospital, waiting for her to wake up. I looked at her and tucked her in. It didn't look like she'll open her eyes any time soon… I had no choice; I must endure the darkest hours of the night.

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