misfits · calum hood

day twenty-eight

I shrugged again, "I don't know. Stuff."

Dr. Halverstine sighed, like he was already tiring of talking to me. "Is it the mental hospital situation?" He asked this because every week I seemed to give the same answer. ("Are you okay?' "No, I'm in a mental hospital." Or, "How do you like it here so far, Vicky?" "It's okay. Mental hospital-y.")

"No, not exactly," I said, chewing on my bottom lip. "More, like, the people in the hospital?"

He gave me a questioning look, and I sighed, not wanting to explain the situation to him. After all, he was my doctor, and he was a guy, and I would have felt much more comfortable explaining everything to at least a girl. "I don't know, it's just. . .drama. Well, the awkwardness of sorta-resolved drama."

"Drama?" He asked. "What kind of drama?"

"Boys are stupid." I said simply, shrugging my shoulders.

I really hoped he wouldn't ask something along the lines of, "But why are boys stupid?" and thankfully he didn't. "Boys are giving you a problem?" He instead asked, and I shook my head.

"No. . .they're just stupid." I said, laughing a little.

I really hoped he would switch the topic; I didn't feel like talking about this. "Are there stupid boys the reason you could be better?"

"Partially," I said, "But boys were never a problem outside the hospital, and I always could have been better then, so."

He finally switched up the conversation, saying, "Vicky, have you been feeling better since you came to the hospital? Happier?"

I leaned against the headboard, nodding. "Yeah, I think I have." It was true, the hospital had fixed me somehow. Not fully. You could never fully be fixed; but I was getting close. Something about the hospital pieced me back together. Maybe it was Calum, maybe it wasn't. He was the one who constantly made me happy, happier than I had ever felt in a while, but he had also made me want to cry and scream all for good and bad reasons.

"Say you were to leave the hospital in the next week or so. Would you be okay?"

I thought for a couple seconds, and then nodded my head again, being completely oblivious to what he was implying. "Yeah, I'd take some getting used to, but I think I'd be fine."

He tapped his pen against the clipboard, looking down at some papers. "What if you stayed? What that be okay, too?"

I nodded, too quickly, and said, "Yeah, I like it here. Sorta."

"Sorta?"

"Well, I think I like the people here the best. Not exactly the hospital."

He kind of ignored my question, writing down things on the paper on his clipboard.

"Okay, Vicky, from what you have told me you're much better than you were from when you first checked in?" I nodded, and he continued, "And your insurance only covers a little over a month."

"What do you mean?" I said, even though it was pretty obvious what he was saying: my insurance only covered a little over a month.

"Insurance covers your time here," Dr. Halverstine replied, his voice calm. "If

you hadn't improved and we were still afraid you would try to hurt yourself, we could make it work so you can stay longer. But you have gotten better; we see it and so do you. You'll be leaving the hospital in two days to a week or so."

A month ago I would of jumped at the chance to leave the hospital. Two weeks ago, even. And now it seemed that everyone I cared even slightly about was stuck in these walls. And I thought that I would be stuck with them. But I was here, being told I was leaving in maybe less than a week.