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dear ivo,

jake was assigned to another patient. i don't see him anymore and it feels like someone took a piece of me and stamped on it until it was just dust in the wind. for the whole day today, no one came to see me. ty's little sister had a birthday party today and he had to stay to help out. mum had to go to work after weeks of missing and visiting me. nadia had never come to visit me because she had work. and jake, well i haven't seen him for four days now.

i tried to busy myself with things other than watching movies. i tried reading but got bored after the second book, i tried drawing but gave up the horrible-looking flowers i was trying to recreate from mum's garden. i tried every possible thing that i could do in my hospital room. in the end, i called bell in to ask him i could explore the hospital.

"wear these," he had said, handing me plastic gloves. "and this," he handed me work overalls. "and don't hurt yourself in any way. i think pain is the trigger for the hallucinations."

he let me around the hospital unsupervised. i think that was very bold of him, doing that for me. i probably wouldn't have do that for a person that was going crazy. but he was slowly being nicer than before.

the first thing i noticed when i exited my hospital room was a janitor. she was listening music and dancing to it while mopping the floor. i had to cover my mouth to stop myself from laughing; she used the mop as a microphone.

after that i kind of just wandered the halls. there was a teen and kids section of the hospital and a senior section. i checked out the senior section but everyone either sleeping or being fed by a nurse. it was around lunchtime after all.

i made my way to the kids area and sat down on a bench in the play place. there were jungle gyms, a colouring table, and a painting area with a bunch of paper, paints, and paintbrushes.

after sitting just doing nothing but sit on the bench in front of a jungle gym, a little boy with a prosthetic leg. it made me think of terry fox and what he did for cancer.

the little boy went to the paints and started to paint on a piece of paper. he happily hummed while he stuck his paintbrush in the red paint, not even noticing me.

standing up, i came around to stand beside him. "that's pretty," i said.

he jumped up and screamed, the red paint now on my face. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry," he kept saying.

i laughed. "it's okay, really. now i look like a clown," i pulled a weird face and walked around jumping like a bunny.

the little boy laughed. "you're funny. what's your name? i'm michael."

i walked back to him and rubbed the plastic gloves on my hands against my face until i felt like all the red paint was off. "i'm teddy. my little sister calls me bear though."

when i said that, i started to tear up. i missed that little brat. i missed the way she would always scream, don't! even when i did the simplest thing like look at her. she was always getting me in trouble and, oddly enough, i missed getting in trouble.

michael patted my back. "there, there, don't cry teddy. it's okay being here, it's actually kind of fun. i like making the nurses do everything for me, even pick my nose!" he sqealed.

i laughed, making a face. "why would you want someone to stick their finger up your nose? doesn't it feel gross?"

"yeah, but it makes it all better when i see the nurses' faces. priceless!" he fell on his back laughing. i started to laugh too and then we were both laughing about stupid things.

"so how old are you?" i asked when we had sobered up and were painting random things on the paper. i had a couple of demented butterflies sitting on oddly shaped flowers. oh, and a sun in the corner. you can never forget the sun in the corner of the paper.

"i'm eight and a half," he smiled crookedly at me, a few teeth missing in the front.

i laughed. "that sure is old."

"yeah, in two years i'll be two whole digets! imagine that, two digets! it must feel cool."

"kind of. i wouldn't know. i never really thought about that kind of stuff when i was young."

"what, were you living under a rock until you were eleven? everyone thinks about digets!"

"not me. when i was eight, i didn't even know what diget meant."

he laughed. "dummy."

we laughed and kept painting. after a bit, a nurse came and said that it was dinner time for michael. we bid our goodbyes and left.

i was smiling the whole way back into my hospital room and, even while writing this, i still am.

truly,

teddy

truly, teddy ✔️ [unedited]Where stories live. Discover now