Note: this chapter was rewritten on 3/13/16. The beginning will seem familiar if you've read it before, but please read it all the way through, because there are some MAJOR changes and things you'll need to know.
// Chapter 6: If at first you fail, please don't try again \\
The Blurriness is back. I can't see anything, except a never ending darkness. Then I feel a sharp burst of pain. From my leg or my head, I can't distinguish. Then complete and utter blackness once again.
It continues on like this for I don't even know how long. I randomly wake up and see nothing, hear nothing, just feel pain and then I'm gone once more.
Then there's one time when in addition to the pain, there is a distant sound that seems millions of miles away. It is as the sound of a fly's wings beating back and forth... Barely there. But as I lay there in the dark, the noise increases, as if it's traveling closer towards me.
I can distinguish the pitch of the sounds, a male and female voice, talking back and forth, yet I can't quite make out what the voices are saying or who they are. And when I try to open my eyes, it's as if they're glued shut. I can't open them. I can't move. And then, the blackness consumes me yet again.
--
"-need to get a job. I've been having to work double shifts because all you do is sit around. I won't accept this anymore. It's been three months. Get over it. She's not coming back."
"This isn't something that I can just forget! Maybe if you weren't gone all the time-"
"I'm gone all the time at work! Slaving my butt off to make sure we have enough money. It's not like we have an unlimited supply of it! I actually, have to earn it!"
"You know, money isn't everything. Maybe if you took a step back, you'd understand."
Conversations like this have been ever present. My hearing has been restored, the pain, I know it's from my leg now, is gradually decreasing, yet somehow I still can't move.
The whispered yelling continues.
"I can't step back. They threatened to take the h- you know what? Nevermind. Just... You need to just get a job." It gets quieter. "I can't do this all on my own. We made promises to understand, help each other forever. I'm going insane from worrying about everything. You, money, Leila. Just please, get a job."
"Okay, fine. I'll get a job."
"How about you start by applying to that little cafe downtown? I heard the tips from there are pretty good."
"No. I decide where I want to work. You're making me get this job, and I'm doing that for you, so at least give me the freedom to choose what it is."
"Okay. Whatever. But please just try and get one soon. This is too much for me. My shift starts soon. I have to go."
And then, a door closes. Although I still can't see it, it makes a monstrous sound in my ears, and afterwards there's a ringing that lasts until I once again, slip into a state of unconsciousness.
--
At one point, I wake up. In all essence, I've been awake almost this whole time, but could never move, just hear and feel the pain.
But now, I am finally free. I can move.
My eyelids are stuck together so it takes a brief second before they separate. Then a bright light blinds my vision.
Someone's voice invades my hearing. "She's awake!"
After what seems like decades, I can make out the faint outlines of shapes. A human body, standing directly in front of me. It's moving around and blurry, like fog.
Then my vision clears. The fog is gone.
The body is Amanda. There are bags under her eyes and she looks like she hasn't slept in days. Her face is free of the makeup usually piled on.
I smile weakly at her and nearly slip into unconsciousness for the hundredth time, but she grabs my arm.
I open my eyes and immediately she reaches and wraps her arms around my torso, hugging me.
I look over her shoulder. There's a monitor screen to my right and many tubes. The walls are pristine white.
She lets go. "Leila, don't you ever do that to me again." A tear falls from her left eye.
I ask "What happened?"
She looks at me, her face blank. A sigh escapes her lips. "Leila, you were in a coma. For three weeks you, you didn't wake up."
What? I am sure my face mirrors that of a mother's when she find out her 14-year-old daughter is pregnant. Shock. Disbelief. How?
Seeing the shock and confusion on my face, Amanda expounds. "I won't go into the details because I don't even know them all, but you tried to commit suicide. I don't know how you planned to do it or for god's sake, even why, but you did. And somehow in the process you conked your head." A thoughtful look crosses her face. It appears that she's battling whether or not she should say something.
I'm so confused. I was just on the verge of a breakthrough regarding Hope's murderer, so there's no way I'd want to . . . To . . . Gosh, I don't even want to say it. There must be a mistake. But then again, Hope's murder has been weighing on me a lot lately . . .
Suddenly, Amanda breaks down, "Why, Leila? Why did you want to die? Didn't you even stop to think what that would do to me?" Tears are falling from both of her eyes now. "It seems like you don't even care anymore. Like you only care about yourself. You know, Hope's death has affected me as well. I knew her just as much as you." Her voice breaks.
I still can't figure out if she's right. Would I really want to do something like that? Kill myself? Everything that happened to me recently I can't remember so who knows? Perhaps I did. But gosh, I sure hope not, if not for Amanda's sake, for mine. And then I realize that Amanda is waiting for my response. "I... I didn't want to die. I don't want to die." I stumble over my words, trying and failing to form a coherent sentence. "I just, I honestly don't remember what happened. I'd never want to die though."
She looks at me through her tears. Doubt rings through her voice and eyes. "Whatever, Leila. Don't tell me. I'm sick of your oscillating behavior. This is bullcrap." She gets up from her seated position on a chair and turns away. She reaches for the doorknob and-
"Amanda." I need her. Somethings not right and I need to find out what it is.
She turns around to me. And now on her face, in addition to the sadness is disgust. Most likely for me, but I deserve it, don't I? At least from her point-of-view. After all, according to her, I attempted suicide. Very quietly, so that I can barely hear her, she mutters, "I'll give you five minutes to explain and if you don't then I'm leaving."
I try to lighten the mood. "Weren't you already leaving?"
Amanda pauses. "I didn't mean it that way. I meant I'm leaving you as a best friend."
Fear grasps at my heart. "No, Amanda. No, don't- I'll explain to you. Just give me a minute, please."
She quips. "I already said I'd give you five."
Even though her voice is brutal, the relief washes over me like a tidal wave. I have no idea where to begin and I can't just outwardly say I didn't intend to kill myself, because maybe I'm wrong and maybe she'd leave my life and never come back. She wouldn't believe me. I'm so conflicted. I don't want to say the wrong thing. So I figure the best place as any to start is the beginning, right? Yes, I'll start with an explanation of Hope's murder, what led up to it, and what led me to here. I haven't gotten the chance to do so yet. So, hesitatingly, I begin. "Months ago, back when Hope was still alive, do you remember that day she died, we were supposed to go to the beach?"
Amanda's face softens. "Why yes, of course. How could I forget?"
"Well, you couldn't come because of issues with Joshua... Again. Hope and I decided to go anyways. We packed our bags and headed to the beach. Strange thing was, it was literally empty. Not a single soul in sight. We were completely and utterly alone.." I pause, trying to remember everything. "We swam, sun-tanned, the usual. Everything was fine. Up until . . ." I take a deep breath. Amanda grabs my hand and eventually I continue.
". . . at first this man just lay in the sand oddly enough, and then he up and left. Hope and I thought nothing of it, but now that I think of it, it might actually mean something. But anyways, continuing on, around came nightfall, so I headed to the car to grab some blankets. And its as if the rest of the night was erased from my memory. I woke up the next day to a dead sister and hysterical parents." At this point, I'm crying from the memory. Amanda may be as well. I can't tell through my glossy eyes.
She reaches over and wraps her arms around me. "Shhh it's okay.. I miss her as well."
Sniffling, I continue speaking "At first, they thought that I was Hope, that Hope was alive and I was the one who died. If only you were there to see my mom's face after she found out it was Hope and not me who she lost, Amanda." I trail off. "She didn't cry until that moment. That moment when she found out her favorite daughter was the one killed . . . Somedays it gets to be too much and I just wish that I could see Hope again, I just . . . I just wish to be reunited with her, you know? And I guess that why I-"
Amanda interrupts me. "No need to continue. It makes sense now. I'm sorry I threatened to leave you. Its just that I miss Hope as well and it seems like you don't realize that Leila."
I pull away from her embrace, leaving our hands entangled for comfort's sake. "No. I mean, yes, I realize that, I do, I really do. But no, as in, let me finish what I was saying."
Amanda seems shocked by my forcefulness. She mumbles "okay."
I finish. "As I was saying, I guess that's why I'm sick of life somedays." Now is the time. To tell her the truth. "But I need to tell you something that you're not going to believe. But please, please let me explain before you jump to any conclusions and-" my breath hitches "and leave."
Amanda hesitates.
"Please, Amanda. I need you." By now, I'm begging.
And finally, she concedes. "I'm listening."
"I'm confused." I pause, realizing I need to say more. "And honestly, I don't remember ever intending to commit suicide. You see-"
At this point, Amanda withdrew her hand from mine. She makes a move to get up, but I grab her sleeve. "Please, let me finish."
Amanda is looking at the ground, and stands there, un-movingly.
I take that as my cue to continue. "The thing is, I can't remember anything. The last thing I remember is going to my therapy session Saturday morning, but even that is muddled. So maybe I did, truly, desire to kill myself. I'm not gonna lie, I have thought about it. But not recently. About a week ago, I made a breakthrough regarding Hope and I think I can find her murderer."
Amanda scoffs "Gosh, Leila, you really are insane. He's already locked up. Remember? Case closed."
"No, seriously, they got th-"
Amanda holds her hand up. "Leila. You need to face reality. Hope is dead. She's not coming back. Ever. There's nothing you or I or anyone for that matter can do to change that. You need to stop freaking out. You're safe. I'm safe. No one is out to get you. Oliver is in behind bars. Yes, you may have attempted suicide, but you're here now. That must mean something."
The arctic bitterness in her voice causes me to take in a breath. I knew it. I knew she wouldn't believe me.
At that moment, the door opens and a guy in a white coat, blue shirt and red tie underneath enters, along with my mother. At first they don't notice me. And then suddenly, my mother gasps. "Leila? You're awake?" She rushes over to my bed and wraps her arms around me. Oh, so now she realizes she has another daughter. Great timing.
The guy, who I assume to be the doctor, seems to reel back as well. "How wonderful! You've embraced the real world once again." He says. "How are you feeling? Any wooziness?"
I fall back on my sarcasm, so as to hide the fact that anything is wrong. "Um . . . To be honest, I am feeling a bit dizzy, but I think it's more due to the fact that my mother's squeezing the very breath out of my lungs than to anything else."
Upon hearing this, my mother loosens her grip and takes a few steps back, sitting down in one the chairs on the far wall. "Sorry," she mutters, barely audible.
The doctor speaks up. "Ah, that's great to hear. Anyways, I have some news for you and your mother." He glances over at Amanda as if to ask her to leave, but I speak up.
"Let her stay."
The doctor returns his gaze back to me and shrugs "Okay. So when you first came in, three weeks ago, we ran some blood tests on you, checking up on everything, making sure you weren't in any sort of fatal condition. Everything turned up fine. Well, obviously, you were in a coma, so that wasn't fine, but other than that, you were clear."
I speak up. "Okay. So what's the news?"
He scratches his head as if the news will forever alter my existence on this very earth and so it must be spoken cautiously. "You see, just today, a few hours ago, in fact, one of the nurses informed me that there was, what should I call it? a lack of transparency when reporting your blood test results. Apparently there was a high percentage of antidepressants in your blood-stream. All types. Venlafaxine, bupropion, imipramine, and more."
"And why didn't they tell you about this before?"
"She told me the reason I wasn't notified until now, was that they just assumed that these drugs were prescribed to you to help you cope with things." He pauses. "But I sense something fishy. Because they always notify me even of the small prescription drugs in a person's blood. And the percentage of antidepressants in your blood stream was higher than any I've seen before."
I chew over his words, one thought sticking out like a sore thumb among the rest. But my mother beats me to the punch. "Leila doesn't take antidepressants, or any drugs for that matter. She has always refused to on the basis of not trusting a bunch of pills that all look identical."
The doctor looks to me for confirmation.
I nod.
He bites his lower lip, deep in thought. Then, he says "As I said, something seems fishy. But I think I have an explanation. First of all, did you intend to kill yourself, Leila? Please. Answer honestly."
The words come out before I even have the chance to think. "I don't know. I can't remember that time-frame honestly. But . . . I don't think I would have done so."
Amanda scoffs. Still in disbelief, I see.
"Now I'm not sure if this is saying anything, but a potential side-effect of antidepressants is actually, depression, believe it or not. That why it's so hard to treat the depressed individual. A drug that works for one person might not work for another. It's also been shown by a study conducted recently, that these antidepressants could actually make a person nearly six times more likely to kill themselves. If not that, they increase the amount of suicidal thinking and behavior."
I feel things clicking in my brain. Perhaps I'm right. Perhaps I didn't intend to kill myself. Perhaps at that time, my brain was a separate entity from my body. Perhaps I wasn't myself.
The doctor is still speaking. "-a doubt, you attempted suicide, Leila. Whether or not you had control over your mind at the time is up to the question." He glances from me to my mother and then back again. "I just thought you guys should know that information. Don't look too far into my analysis. After all, I'm a doctor not a detective. Now, onto the positive news. You will probably be released soon, due to your conscious state. For the time being, stay here, rest, and smile. A nurse will attend to you if you need anything to eat or otherwise." He leaves the room.
An unsettling silence occurs for the next few minutes. I think about how antidepressants could have made their way into my bloodstream. I definitely didn't take them consciously. Could someone have gave them to me without my knowing? But who would do that? And why?
Suddenly my mom speaks sharply. "Leila. You didn't take antidepressants behind my back, did you?"
Of course she asks me this. Always trusting me. I decide to have some fun. "Yes, actually I did . . ."
She doesn't even seem surprised, as if she was expecting this all along. "I knew it! Especially with that sneaking off the the prisons thing to see Oli-"
I tune her out due to the fact that I've had a delirious realization. That's it. Oliver. He must be somehow related to my being drugged up. I need to see him again. Even if it means going without my parent's consent. Behind the noise of my brain working at full speed, I can see my mother's lips still moving at rocket-like speed, most likely condescending me, but I don't even care.
And then I look to the right to see Amanda. A deep sadness rises up inside of me. I really need someone to confide in again. Especially with this realization I've discovered. It has to be her. Our relationship is currently scattered in pieces all over the floor, but if we put some effort into it, maybe we can put it back together to how it once was.
But first, let me get out of this hospital.
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Fun fact: I wrote half of this chapter on my typewriter.
Was this emotional enough for you guys?
<3 ash
Dedicated to @Quackerzz for pestering me to update this book. I probably wouldn't have as soon if it weren't for you!