A/N: Hello, hello!
I am so sorry I haven't written in so long. During Thanksgiving weekend, I was without a computer due to a relocation. Hope I am forgiven.
(PS: I have changed Caroline's and Tom's surname from Delanges to Allen. I sort of made Delanges up because of the lack of a better word, and have decided to erase that God awful name from the planet. I hope its not too confusing. I am working on editing all the previous chapters for new readers)
As always, thanks for reading!
"No," I say, for the umpteenth time.
"So you are positively sure that there was no fire?" The doctor asks, again.
"Yes." I want to scream.
"One more time, please. Explain to me what happened. We have to make sure you haven't experienced any neuro damage, or any other type for that matter." He notices my expression, which should be displaying the simple fact that I am about to slaughter him for asking that question again. "Please," he says to the floor, then slowly looks up to me.
I let out a deep sigh that rolls out from the bottom of my chest. "I had a dream when I had passed out on the road. It was very vivid, one where I believed there was a fire that a friend and I were running from. I was mistaken. I apologize for the repercussions that amounted from my false claim." The statement is laced with a lethal amount of sarcasm.
"Thank you. We are going to keep you overnight, just for observation, alright?" My greying doctor says, with obvious discomfort. Sweat shines from his onyx forehead
"It's not like I have any choice," I would like to say, but don't. I raise my eyebrows and nod my head with pursed lips. Another day of cardboard foods and a scratchy bed to lie on, all while clothed in a dress with no back. Stellar. "We still don't know what caused you to fall," he reminds me.
"I thought I had already told you. It was just a bad headache."
"Headaches don't normally make pretty young girls pass out with pain," he counters with a respectful smile.
"Well, this one did." His smile vanishes and he expels a hearty sigh. "I have a low pain tolerance," I explain falsely.
He looks at the door with longing. When a nurse walking down the hallway breifly makes eye contact with him, I see wheels moving in his head. "Excuse me. There is something I have to attend to," he concocts. I roll my eyes at his poor excuse.
With ouckered lips and a nod from his greying head, my doctor exits the room, leaving the black-haired nurse to pay me company. I look at her name tag to finally lable her, as the "black-haired nurse" is too long of a name to say over and over again. The word "Lissy" is spelt on the plastic, framed by pink and purple hearts.
Lissy looks at the clipboard that she has at hand and walks towards the bed where I sit. "Alrighty, Will'ah. Who're yer parents?" She asks with no foreword. Her hand holds a pen that hovers over the paper.
I sigh, then with exhaustion reply: "'Don't have any." Throughout this ordeal - questioning that lasted well past two hours, that is - I was becoming increasingly aware of how late it was at night, as my eyelids became more and more cumbersome to keep open. I am languid from a completely subjectory mental illness, one that would put me into a psychiatric ward for centruies if I ever breathe a word of it. I'm just a wee bit tired.
She looks at me odd. "Ere'body has parents. Where yers?"
"I don't know," I say tiredly, honestly.
She blasts air from her nose. "Now, come on, Will'ah. Who'd ya live with?"
"My foster parents," the words are produced through a yawn.
The pen scratches something on the paper. "Who're dey?"
"Caroline and Tom Allen." The pen scratches.
"Address?"
I tell her, mainly through cardinal directions. They are so far from the city that their house doesn't even contain a zip code.
The pen moves frantically over the page as I describe their house. "Thank ya," she says, nodding, then turning to leave.
"Are you going to contact them?" I call. Lissy rotates her hips around to look at me from the top of her shoulder.
"Yes," she says simply, her stitched smile returning.
"Can you not? Call them, I mean." She fully turns to face my bed.
Her head cocks to the side and her smile disappears again. "Well, we have'ta. Yer a minor." She leans on one of her legs. "Why wouldn't ya want dem called?"
"No reason." She continues to stare. "I guess I don't want to inconvenience them."
Her eyes narrow. "Is yer home life okay, sweetie?"
"Oh! Yeah, its fine," I say, looking into her eye so she wouldn't believe that I was lying.
"Alrighty... ya sleep well, alrigh'?" I nod then, thank God, she finally leaves. I get off the bed to turn the lights off and close the hallway's door. I pull the curtains, blocking the light. It is completely dark in the room, except for the street lights' glow seeping through the window without a curtain. Oh, well.
I collapse onto the bed, exhausted. One would think that lying in bed the entire day wouldn't wipe a person clean of energy, but my physical and mental state testifies for the contrary. I adjust my legs onto the bed with a foot hanging off of the edge, my stomach resting on the mattress. Before I have enough time to count any amount of sheep, I am submerged into unconsciousness.
I wake from a bright light seeping through the thin film of my eyelids. For a second, I would have sworn that my eyelids were sewn shut, as it was nearly impossible to open them. I finally do, and what a feat that was.
Caroline and Tom are now in the room; Tom is standing discontent against the wall, chewing what I can assume is tobacco, as Caroline is cascading from the green chair, reading a magazine. When she raises her eyes, she sees that I am awake.
"Oh, sug'ah pie! 'Ou'er awake!" Caroline squeals. She lifts her body with help from the chair's arms that squeak in protest, then waddles over to where I lay. "We'ah so worried!"
"Okay," I wheeze as she hugs me, something that she has never done. When she releases me with a smile and a tap on my nose, I gasp in a breath with wide eyes filled with confusion. Tom saunters over to the chair where Caroline was just sitting without a glance in our direction and plops himself into it, his large shirt sphering in front of him like a pregnant belly. He looks down at the chair and his lip curls, mumbling about "how it's too warm." I try not to laugh.
I notice then a figure that stands in the doorframe, staring at Caroline's and my exchange with a smile.
"Glad to see you're awake, Ms. Allen," my greying doctor says.
"It's Nothing. I don't have a surname," I snap, my words suddenly harsh.
The doctor, of whom had already created a history of pissing me off, just pushes his lips together and nods in silence.
"We're so worried when 'ou didn't come 'ome last nigh'! Weren' we, Tom?" Caroline looks over to Tom, who just sucks on his chew.
The doctor does a double take. "Oh, sir! Tobacco is prohibited on these premises!" He says, horrified. "I must ask you to spit that out at once!" The doctor frantically searches the room for a trashcan, rushes towards it, then holds it out in front of Tom. Tom scowls at the doctor, loathing in his eyes. He spits out the tobacco, his tongue rolling out with it with no front teeth to restrict it. I smirk at the hilarity of his expression, taking all of my willpower not to burst out in laughter.
The doctor holds the trashcan away from himself with a fully extended arm. "Pardon me, as I dispose of this." He scurries out of the room. Tom takes out another circular black container, placing more chewing tobacco on the inside of the lip.
Caroline's façade drops as soon as the doctor's foot leaves the room. "Wha' the hell did you do?! Do'ya know just 'ow much this'll cost!" Her arms fly in the air.
"Sorry," I say, not expressing any sympathy.
"Wha' were ya even doin!?"
"I got a headache. I fell. I'm sorry."
"Well, obviously, you ain't. Me and Tom are leavin'." She motions for her husband that is folded up on the stiff green chair which probably has more surface area than his person. She turns around to stare at me with her drooping eyelids caked with bright makeup. "'Only reason we came was to sign papers. 'Ou better'n get 'ourself home withou' another coma. C'mon," Caroline finished looking at Tom. And with a nod of her head that personifies finality, they both leave.
I can't say whether I am pleased or discontented with their absence. I decide on impartiality.
The rest of the day is spent is a series of ruffled pages and sighs of boredom. Nothing progresses and no one comes to visit except for the occasional nurse and this one lady that came passing out Jesus pamphlets of encouragement. I used it as a bookmark.
As I'm swallowing ice chips, I get a sudden and violent urge to pee, of all things. I pinch my dress's fabric and toss my book onto the bed. Standing then wheeling the monitor's and IV's stand, I open the bathroom's door. I get tunnel vision for a second, but it is easily dismissed as my sitting for the entire day and the creation of sudden movement.
My feet make contact with the cold marble and gooseflesh is instantly erected, stretching from my legs to my scalp. I look into the mirror, but my tunnel vision has instead improved to blanketing the near entirety of my eyesight, and I cannot see anything. A distant ringing starts in my ears, progressing to a constant blaring, all of which are the warning signs of a headache. And I wanted to do was pee.
Disoriented and blinded, I try to reach for the counter, but miss by a distance; my hands grapple at the air. I fall to the floor - I had pushed my weight into the imaginary counter - the IV stand following after with a forceful tug on the needle in my arm. The migrain's pain is not nearly as horrible as it could have been - if anything (with comparison to the previous pounding headaches) it is but a gentle nudging behind my eyes. The ringing in my eyes and the thick blackness of my vision, though, forces my mental strength to abandon wakefulness.
A/N: Thank you for reading!
I know it was short, but I am planning on writing the next chapter tonight or tomorrow. Bear with me.
I would just like to state that I am extremely appreciative of my readers, however few they are. We have recently passed 210 reads, which is just so FREAKIN' awesome, you have no idea.
The song is High Hopes by Pink Floyd, and it's there because I just love it. Sorry.