Miles Apart

Chapter 15- Natalie

I sat in my room with my knees pulled up to my chest and my arms wrapped around my legs. I'd decided to be silent. To not participate in therapy, and not fight anymore. They didn't believe me, and I couldn't change that, so I'd just be silent. I'd never admit to something I know I never did.

I overheard the doctors talk to my parents. They believed that I couldn't remember because the accident erased that part of my memories. It was idiotic.

I wondered about Ellington, and if he had read my letter. I knew that if he did, he'd believe me, and maybe he'd come back to help, but day after day there was no call, no sign that he'd even existed. He was just another ghost that left my life just as quickly as he'd come.

Everyday felt like a lifetime, and I couldn't stand sitting all day, so I started writing. I wrote letters to Ellington everyday. I just kept hoping that he was on my side. No one else was, so he had to be. We had talked, right? He understood me.

Ellington,

I hope you read my letter. I'm still debating whether or not I'll send this to you (that is, if they let me), but I just hope that you are trying. I hope that you believe me and that you're trying to get me out of here. I can't stand being here anymore. It's like being in prison for a crime you didn't commit. They keep trying to get me to admit I have a problem. I DON'T DO DRUGS AND I NEVER HAVE. I don't understand why my parents aren't fighting for me... why Isaac is not fighting. He was supposed to be my best friend.... so what happened?

Maybe you were my best friend all along, we just didn't know each other, but we were meant to be friends. You understand me more than anyone else does.

Please read this. You can't ignore me forever. I need you. Please help.

Sincerely,

Nat

I sat my notepad down on the table and let out a long held sigh. I could only hope at this point that he was thinking about me, but deep down in my heart I knew he wasn't. I knew that he was just like everyone else.

I started drawing pictures to pass the time that wasn't spent writing. The doctors saw it as improvement, so they had my parents buy me a set of pencils, crayons, erasers, the whole art deal.

I worked day and night, drawing scenes of various teenage girls trapped inside some misery or another. That's what I was. I was just a normal teenage girl who was in the wrong place at the wrong time listening to the wrong song on the radio, but instead of getting the help I truly needed, I was forced to sit and rot away.

My mind kept trailing back to the song that had made so many tears flow and caused me to lose control. I couldn't remember much of it, but I could remember the melody and how it made me feel inside. My art slowly shifted. The scenes became softer, lighter, even, because that's what the song was. It was a beautiful string of softness that sent your emotions spiraling out of control.

Finally, I remembered the main lyrics. I wrote them down quickly on a piece of paper. Once I got out of here, I'd have to look it up.

Wait up, wait up, give me one more chance. To make up, make up, I just need one last dance.

I pondered for hours on why that would've made me cry. It didn't make any sense, as far as I knew, I had been single at the time of the accident. It couldn't have been relationship problems. So what was it? Was it the fact that I couldn't handle life anymore, and it felt like I was slowly breaking? What triggered me to lose control? Those questions were the ones I set out to answer, and then I'd know exactly what happened.