How To Not Die

bouquet

Charlie and I used to be best friends. That was, until about eighth grade, when he dated this bitch named Kate and "got in with the popular kids", or whatever. That was several years ago, so I don't know why the fuck he's here now.

I turn to ask him, but he's got a big, shitty grin on his face. "What the hell are you smiling about, asshole?"

"You. I forgot about your sense of humor." The asshole has something behind his back which I was going to ask about until he opened his stupid mouth.

"What the fuck! You can't just be an asshole to me for years, then show up in this hospital because you used to be friends with me and you're pretending to be worried, or whatever. You're an asshole."

"Nina, I was the one who found you almost dead in a pile of your own blood. That's why I'm here. I wanted to make sure you're okay. I haven't left the hospital, so the doctors figured it would be nice to at least let me see you."

"So you're the reason I'm alive right now?"

He apparently didn't sense my anger, and giddily answered, "Yeah. I saved you." I am in complete shock. Why the hell did this asshole think it would be okay to come into my room? Who the fuck does he think he is?

"WHY THE FUCK WERE YOU AT MY HOUSE, ASSHOLE! You can't just be an asshole to me for years, then just pretend like it never happened!"

"Nina, I need you to hear me out. I----"

"I don't need to do anything! Fuck you! Get out of my fucking room!"

"You know what? Fine! I will! Have fun rotting away in this shitty-ass hospital!" There was a sound of crinkling plastic as he threw something down on the table by the door and ran out.

I almost feel bad about what I said, but I only remember that he screwed me over so that he could get with some bitch who left him in a couple months. He came to my house that night, crying his eyes out over that dumb bitch. I fucking took care of his sorry ass, too. I thought for sure that I was going to get my best and only friend back.

Boy, was I fucking wrong. The last thing he said to me after I consoled him or whatever and before he went home was, "Can we forget that this ever happened? I don't want to ruin things between me and the guys." I mean, this was just fucking salt in the wound. He knew damn well that there was no one who would listen to me even if I did want to tell everyone. He knew I didn't care enough about anything to do that. He knew me. He was the only one, but I guess that's just the way it is. Whatever.

I get up to go shut the door that Charlie left wide open and catch a glimpse at the shit he threw at the table. They're flowers, but not the bullshit roses and that kind of shit; they're sunflowers. He always knew those were my favorite. Asshole.

When we were kids, we used to pick flowers for each other. I was an asshole and I picked him dandelions and weeds I thought looked pretty cool. Charlie, on the other hand, went all out and brought me sunflowers from his mother's "prized" garden. His mom yelled at him for wasting the flowers, but he brought them to me anyway. His mom also didn't like the fact that he put the weeds I gave him in her best vase. I'm beginning to see why his mom doesn't like me.

Anyway, it looks like he bought some kind of flowers, probably gave those to his mom, then shoved some of her sunflowers in here. Cool. Whatever. I drop them back on the table, not having anywhere to set them, and see a white sheet of paper tied to one of the flowers on a string. I begin to see black spots clouding my vision. Shit. I grab a sunflower, hope it's the right one, and make a mad dash back to my bed. I lay down and bam! I'm out. Whatever, I guess.