Sometimes There Is No Brightside [Edward Masen-Cullen]

Chapter Seven

I drifted in space.

It was a strange feeling, as if my body weighed nothing, as if all worries had been taken from me, as if everything was over and alright.

As always, though, everything was only pretense; as if, as if.

When my senses returned to me, though, I wished everything had been real, that I had died and was now finally gone from this world. I felt fresh tears rolling down my cheeks, and I wondered where I still got tears from... I had been certain I had spilled them all.

"Hey, girl." A soft voice called to me and brushed my face tenderly with warm fingertips. When was the last time I had experienced such kindness? The thought of how long had it been made more tears spill over, until I forced myself to finally get a grip on myself.

I opened my eyes and found myself in a white room. The bright light hurt my eyes.

A woman with her dark brown hair tied back into a tight bun leaned down and smiled at me. "Thank God, you’re finally awake. We almost lost you."

"What..." My voice broke, was only a croaking sound. I swallowed, the movement hurting my sore throat, and tried again: "What happened?"

"We hoped you might tell us. A friend of yours called us because you weren’t responding to her knocks on your door, then the housekeeper opened the door for us and we found you half-dead on your bed." I was glad that there was no reproach in the woman’s words. I only now realized how the drugs I had been taking for over a year now were destroying my life nearly faster and more efficient than I myself was.

I won’t let myself be outdone by drugs, I thought with humour as dry as salt.

"Now, what mindless idiot broke your heart?" The nurse’s tone almost implied this was a simple chat over tea, and I even found myself wishing it was truly that. It felt good to talk to someone who wasn’t a whore like myself or just another client, so I found myself responding readily.

"Not a mindless idiot, sadly." I smiled bitterly. "If he were just that, I certainly wouldn’t cry over him." I hadn’t realized until now that I had actually cried over Edward. I believed I had cried over the situation...

The nurse laughed. "Right you are, lass. So what noble gentleman did this to you?"

I even managed a smile. "Old childhood friend."

"Oh. Those are often the worst, because they capture our hearts early and never leave them. That gives them a lot of years to poison our hearts with their love and before we realize it, they’ve won it." She sighed.

"He was like my big brother, and then we got into a fight about..."

With kind eyes, the other woman looked at me, and so I told her the truth. "...about my trade."

"I do not want to reproach anybody, dear." She started with that warm and kind voice of hers. "Nor do I want to judge you. But I believe that a smart young woman as you are has a better future before her than ending as a prostitute, especially since you seem to have a friend who is at your side."

"No longer." Had my voice always sounded so bitter?

She ignored the comment and said: "When you leave this hospital, I don’t have any influence on what you do or might not do; even less than I have now. So I will tell you now: Even if you should return to your job, stay away from the drugs."

"Easy said but done."

"Think about it this way: Every box of opium and every container of morphine that you don’t buy will bring extra coins to your savings, and therewith your future."

I considered for a moment. "I like that way of thinking." I finally said. "But I have no future I can save up for anymore."

"Don’t say such things." She leaned forward and looked at me intently, her hazel eyes boring into mine. "There’s still fire in your eyes, the burning hope and the will, the strength, the pride... everything you need to fight on. Don’t take the convenient way. You’re not that type of woman, Joyce."

I realized she was right. Edward had opened my eyes and this kind nurse had shown me the direction. I felt my old self, my old fighting spirit, my old hope and strength returning. I might have lost Edward forever now, but I have not lost myself. It was a poor comfort, but the only one I had.

"It’s Beatrice." I replied. "My name is Beatrice."