A Single Moment Of Sincerity [SOMEONE SOMEWHERE SEQUEL]

She's on her arse again, like every night before.

"You! You told them!" I screamed at him shakily, unable to keep myself together as he walked back through the door. My hands slipped over my pile of clothes as I searched for my jeans to put on instead of this humiliating hospital gown.

"Of course I did!"

"Well you had no fucking right!"

"Calm the fuck down, they're there to help you."

"So were you." I scoffed back.

"And look who saved your life last night."

"You're the one that made me destructive anyway!" I shouted in anger before I even thought of the words. I wanted to take them back - if only there was a way - but I couldn't. They hung in the air, personally attacking Ben. "Well, you didn't- it was me... I- uh, it was me I was sad with."

"It's okay." He murmured "You don't have to lie."

           I wasn't lying though.

I shook my head wearily at him, though he didnt see, and with a sigh pulled my jeans under the blue fabric that swallowed me.

       I had to get dressed now, I was meeting some preppy therapist or something. A person who could 'solve all my problems' apparently. But so could I if you gave me some alcohol.

With a stabbing pain in my drip-connected hand I managed to do up my flies. Thats when I realised I couldn't get changed, even if I wanted to - not with this evil machine wired in to my veins.

After a drawn out wince I pressed the buzzer to call for medical attention. The nurse, still dressed in typical blue, sauntered in. A fake 'I care about you' smile was plastered on her face.

Of course she didn't care the only one who did was... was Ben... and look how he is.

She fumbled slightly and removed the plastic tube from my arm releasing me from its grip. Completly disconnected to all machines I watched as the nurse walked out and Ben turned away. Giving me enough privacy to strip for my hiddeous gown and pull on the top from last night, which I only just noticed was one from Glamour Kills (Jack Barakat's clothing line.).

We didn't speak much after that, Ben and I. A couple sentences were passed, some offers of encouragement. That was all. In the end of the day he was upset with me, and I was starting to drop back onto what we used to call my 'black mood'. Which isn't a healthy place to be, might I add.

I fiddled with my plastic wristband they'd branded me with, which held my name and other general details and watched out of the small window idly. Watching the people move about their daily lives, wondering how many people are suffering like me. How many are holding burdens or secrets. How many walking, when they shouldn't be alive because they certainly don't feel like they are. That thought intrigued me: what is it like to feel alive?

I was pulled from my thoughts when I heard someone say 'Melissa?' In a sympathetic tone. My head popped up and saw the woman staring at me, eyes taking me in sadly. I nodded her way, confirming my identity by waving her my wrist band.

'Come with me.' Was all she said as she shuffled out the door, me on her tail.

I was led into a small, heavily cluttered office. With a smile on her face she walked out, leaving me truly alone and so confused. Thirty seconds had passed when the door re-opened. A young female, at about maybe 26, with dark blonde hair pulled back into a loose bun stood at the doorway. Her eyes wers a shiny blue, her lips a vivid red. And despite all this and her beautiful clothing the first thing I noticed was the fading white scar on her wrist, hidden behind many-a-bracelet. I guess when you harm yourself you learn how to notice others.