After Marc sits me up and kisses my cheek, he reminds me where we're going and how my dream could either be 100% accurate or not at all. I tell him about the dream. He tells me i'm being irrational. it makes me upset but ignore the thought to stare out of the window, watching the trees whos leaves i wont smell, the grass with blades and disturbing bugs i wont feel crawling up my legs. The smell of fresh rain wont touch my nose for months. A sigh escapes my throat and i lean on marcus, his smell flooding through my body, feeling like its rushing up my veins.
i never thought about how he was a smell i wouldnt experience for a while either. I'd have visits but who knew how often? what if he gives up on me, and i never see him again?
I cling to his body, the warmth covering my own small and weak being. i wonder if this place will really help.
i dig my nose into the nape of his neck, breathing in and dreaming of the day ill be out to see him and love him again but with a healthy mind and healthy body. the smell reminds me of fall, i cant touch onto why it does but it just does. he reminds me of october winds that lick your skin and bring a chill to your body, he reminds me of piles of crunching leaves with delightful earthy smells, and the feel of a warm house when the outdoors is cold. The thoughts make my brain wander into a deeper darker part of my mind and i begin thinking of death, what may happen in here. what may become of my family and i, Marcus and i, all my relationships with the outside world. they might slowly deteriorate or this could bring them closer together and i wont know. not until i get out. What if i never see Marcus again. What if i dont get better, and my family disowns me, or gives up and just lets my body blow away in a small gust like some fall leaves you push onto your sidewalk?
What if i never get better. The thought races through my ill brain, reminding me of how dumb i am and telling me that I got myself here in the first place. What an idiot i must be to keep doing this to myself. And yet i continue.
I wish i wasn't alive. I wish Marcus had never met me and my parents never had me, things would have gone so much smoother. I think about how Marc deserves better. He should leave me, and find someone better off with him than me. I'll make daily life a living hell if he ever decides to be with me forever. Even if he decided forever was for us, how long will forever be if i never get better? an outstanding twenty years i was never supposed to make? what if i die in his arms in the middle of his night from starvation i never knew was creeping up on me slowly because hunger is such a familiar feeling to my deteriorating body that i never notice when i am truly honest to god starving. It all feels like light pains you get in your elbow after trying to attempt a cartwheel and falling, but in my chest and stomach and legs. It fills my whole body and makes me tingle at every limb yet it feels like such a small and dull pain. My temples begin to ache and Marcus notices me staring into the distance, thinking about what may never come.
"Tay, dont do this to yourself. I know what you're thinking about." my jaw tenses and i feel a grey sadness engulf my small frame. "i wont leave you because of this. Its going to be tough being so far away... but i promise. Taylor promise me you'll say the same, you wont let this tear us apart?" I stare at the way his lips move when he speaks and how they go with the slight way he almost has a lisp. I move my eyes up to his and i nod, put my hand up and notice how shaky its gotten. I lift a pinky up, and he wraps his around mine before holding onto my hand tightly and kissing my knuckles. "i love you taylor. This is going to help you, just please cooperate with the help you're getting. okay?"
"i will. promise." i mutter out, leaning my head onto his shoulder, our hands still tight together.
i miss him already.
* * *
We've arrived at the hospital, the chemical smell i remember from my dreams fills my lungs again the same way id imagined it would. We do countless minutes of paperwork i really wished to just get over with, and they bring me water when they notice my obvious shakiness. They give me a few minutes to spend with Marcus and my family and i hug marcus close to me and listen to his heartbeat, wondering how fragile it is and how easily will he give up on me if he decides his heart is broken. They take me back to the hospital, leaving the last people i loved behind me and the smell of hospital hits me so hard i almost pass out. They show me to my room and take my clothing for inspection and make me strip down to make sure ive not hidden anything in my clothes. they give me hand-me-down pajama clothing that i get to wear for the day, and let me go to my room and lay down.
As soon as i lay my head on the pillow i feel myself drifting, and slowly going to sleep. I'm so worn out, i cant keep myself awake to listen to my surroundings. the sound of a girl crying in her room alone, begging to herself or some imaginary person, asking to go home. Her sobs dont stop my eyes from being closer and closer to being closed before im resting easy on my pillow and just barely staying awake. A soft hand touches my shoulder and my body jolts back to life, and i look up at a lady dressed in scrubs, telling me she needs to draw blood. I roll my eyes to myself and throw my blankets over, standing up and nearly falling down. The room they take me to is small and cramped with the tools that always facinate you when you enter a doctors office as a child. The gloves you want to take with you to make into balloons, the little plastic pieces that go over the uncomfortable device they stick in your ears that makes your throat itch. They grab onto my arm and the nurse seems disgusted, or scared, i cant tell behind her large glasses.
"okay, you'll feel a bit of a pinch." i nod and close my eyes as they stick a small needle into my arm and take what feels like the last bit of blood that i have. They put the tape that leaves residue for weeks on your arm and let me go back to my room, but this time i cant get myself to relax. i cant sleep.
it seems like hours of pointless thinking, just trying to lure myself back into a less permanent death state. Hours and hours passed before i feel myself fade away, the stale smell of the bed sheets and chemicals filling my nose, throat and lungs.
YOU ARE READING
Pretty Boy.Teen Fiction
Taylor weighs a whopping 98 pounds, and in his mind he weights over 300 all thanks to a comment a few boys made in the locker room. He goes through sweat, blood, and tears just to become the pretty boy society expects him to be.