Irony, therapy and a little bit of Jeremy

chapter 5

Have you ever felt that crap you just want to sleep? But at the same time you want to have company and see people... just live? Well that was my problem exactly. Although acting alive was harder than I thought. Once crisp bed sheets were starting to feel worn, lived in. Old magazines, Old CDs and a Old tv that I doubt could even get a reception were what I had to look forward to everyday. So yes my life had turned into a rather boring reality TV show. Actually It would be that boring People wouldn't want to watch it! Constant eyes watched me now after I went to doctor Yashman and I felt like a goldfish in a tank.

My nurse Fran said if I looked well enough I could go to the support group. Unfortunately acting and being were to totally different things. I ached from head to toe! Moving felt like somebody was crushing my bones. Failing to go to the bathroom was a really bad sign. I tried but when I got to the end of my bed I was just too out of breath. On top of all of that I felt like I had a Mexican wave inside my stomach. I felt shit but I was lonely enough to want to seek company from dying minors. Which is rich considering I fitted into that criteria! My dad promised to try to come tonight since he got back from the road trip yesterday. Honestly I doubt he will. Melting on my tounge the soft mint devolved into delicious minty goo. Regrettably I felt even sicker after I had eaten a few of them.

Fran looked down at me skeptically and mused "I don't know you look worse today..."

"I will look worse everyday from now till I leave this place or I die, and what good is a support group doing if people can't  go to get support?" turning away to pass me a drink she dropped her clip board. I'm sure it was only aloud as it would ever have been but I felt like my whole head was going to explode! Covering my ringing ears in a futile attempt to stop the high pitched siren a small tear brushed my cheek. Opening my eyes I felt bile rise to the back of my throat and just before I could say anything I was sick. Projectily! Fran was on the fall picking up papers and a misfortunant case of wrong place at the wrong time lead to her having a shower... In my vomit. Honestly I didn't blame her for being sick too after all it was in her hair and face. Her heaving echoed through the room and I was sick again. In the end I won and went to support group.

Bill was the man who came in the ambulance with me. Wheeling people around and escorting them to place sounded like a boring job. He told me stories of how he used to fly the air ambulance but now he was too old. I liked Bill. His gray hair was speckled with dark bits revealing he used to have a dark mane. I must have looked at him like he was lying when he told me somebody crashed their car staring at him so he pulled out his wallet. Retrieving a picture he looked quite pleased with himself. Standing in the picture was a very attractive man with a head of short dark curles. Ripped arms bulged out of his top and the photo looked about 30 years old. Bill was quite the looker back in the day. Smiling he gave me a knowing look.

"What?" I asked

"That's a common reaction. You know I once got signed as a model!" Mystified by his photo he finally put it away. Bill was friendly, nice, funny and didn't look at me like I was a kicked puppy. I felt human again around him.

Support group was my worse nightmare I new nobody apart from Bill and most of the people there were children and one or two teens but they all looked depressed and angry. One boy even growled at me when I stood up to get a drink! He growled! Still I feeled to rotten to get out of my wheel chair and when the actual support thing came around I just wanted to go back to the hospital. Half way through the introduction my pain killers wore of and I started to feel worse. Seriously this take was like the giant beam stalk! It went on and on and on! Bill asked me If I wanted to go and I gave him a curt nod. Discretely me and Bill left ten minutes later. My big move to a ward was postponed another day because I was so ill and  fran just let me sleep. My dad rang and apologized but asked if I would be able to go home for tea the next night. Personally I didn't want  to go but Fran insisted it would make me feel better. Working on a believable lie while drugged and tried was impossible! Defeated I agreed to go.

"You did what?" I asked horrified. I was in total disbelief! I had been gone for four days. Four. Days. Somehow Elsa had convinced my parents It was a good idea to get rid of Chester.

"It's not permanent, he's only with your grandparents while you are out of the house." Commented my mum. Her Sad stail steel eyes pleaded with me to not make it a big deal, but it was. Washed out skin echoed the white paint on the walls and if I didn't know her I would probably think she was in her fifty's. Truthfully they didn't understand. Chester was just a dog to them. They were wrong! How could I forgive them for this? I thought. Smirking Elsa sat down on the sofa.

"It was her! wasn't it?" I screamed and even to my ears I sounded frantic but I couldn't stop myself. Grabbing onto anything that would suggest my parents weren't monsters was my last resort. Now it was my turn to plead with my eyes. Elsa made a show of waving her hands and looking innocent. Silence speaks a thousand words and my farther could have wrote a biography. "You little bi-"

"if you think I'm going to help her now after she's accused me of that, Ha. I'm not" Her words were directed at my parents. Shock and disgust washed over their sullen features. My mother's parchment skin fell another shade and she looked gray. Baggy eyes, wrinkled shirt, and messy hair you would never think my farther was a lawyer! Chester's old dog bed was littered with his golden hair and I felt the full force of anger, sorrow and despair wash over me.

Looking rather startled by the turn of events bill tired to defuse the situation

"I think I'm going to call the ambulance, Willow really doesn't need this." Interjected Bill. Who he was talking to was a mystery to me. I was disgusted. Not in Elsa. But the thought of having her poisonous nasty toxic  blood in me. 6:30 was the time I snapped.

"I would rather have this illness than have your toxic blood in me. You will never be half as good as the person Lilly was, do you know why? She was made with love, you were made with desperation. A donor baby. They had no real desire for you except to have you as a plan B. Only you couldn't even do that, could you?" Every word that spilled through my mouth was laced with venom and at that moment in time there was no mistaking we were related. Erupting waves of tears poured rapidly down her face. Undoubtedly I hurt her and my parents but I didn't care. Chester wasn't just a dog he was my dog, my family and my friend. But when I needed him they took him away...