“You’re not the only one who misses her, you know.” I looked up to see where the voice had come from. It was the girl who I had sat next to the first day I’d come here standing in my bedroom doorway. Our bedroom doorway. Phoebe, her name was. I barely remembered it; she wasn’t important to me.
I said nothing to her and she sighed, walking across the room without invitation and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of me, mirroring my positioning. I lifted one knee to rest my chin on and she did the same. I used my right hand to scratch my left one and she used her left to scratch her right, as if I was staring right back at my own reflection. I huffed in annoyance and she grinned back at me, returning to how she had been sitting to begin with. I was glad she had given up the game and continued to wallow in self-pity, ignoring her presence.
“I miss her too,” she sighed sadly, but still I refused to look at her. “She was the nearest thing I had to a best friend when I came here. She kind of took me under her wing and taught me a lot, like how to deal with the bad thoughts sometimes. Although, I guess she couldn’t really deal with them herself, huh?”
I shook my head, but continued to stare at the ground. I didn’t want her in this bedroom. It wasn’t hers. It was mine. It was Naomi’s. Everything on her side of the room had been kept exactly how it was when she left. Staff had tried to change the sheets on her bed but I refused. I cried. Screamed. Shouted. Everything had to be left alone for when she returned; she would prefer it that way if she knew no one had been tampering with any of her belongings.
Phoebe reached across, putting her hand under my chin and lifted my face to look at hers. She tried to look closer at me; tried to look into my eyes to see what I was thinking. To see what I was feeling. I shook her off and she sighed.
“You’re going to have to accept the fact she might not be coming back.” My head snapped up to stare her in the eye. The thought had never occurred to me. She was coming back. I was going to wait for her, no matter how long it took. You could always join her. I smiled to myself and Phoebe cocked her head to one side, looking confused. I stopped smiling. “I’ve been here a while,” she continued. “I’ve seen girls go to the ward and not come back. Sometimes they just took another path to get better. Other times, they weren’t so-“
“She’s coming back,” I said, cutting her off. “She’s coming back. She’s coming back!”
Phoebe was on her feet before I had a chance to grab her. She told me I needed to calm down. I didn’t want to. So I continued repeating what I believed to be true; what everyone else told to me to be extremely unlikely. She’s ill, they told me. She’s more ill than what we had first anticipated. Ill? She’s just a success. Unlike you. You’re a failure. A fat, worthless failure.
“A fat, worthless failure,” I repeated to myself, barely under my breath.
“What?” Phoebe inquired, taking a step towards me. I shot her a look and she took it as her cue to leave, gently closing the door behind her.
I stood and retraced her steps to the door, pressing my ear against the cold, hard wood and listened for any sign of her return. I gently pulled down the handle and opened the door to look through the tiny gap and stare down the hallway. Empty. I stayed for another thirty seconds or so to make absolute sure, then closed the door again, keeping an ear pricked up for any changes which could ruin my plan completely.
For the first time since I had been there, I opened the bottom drawer on my bedside table and removed the clothes that had been neatly stacked in size order. I shook the fifth shirt from the top and a small mint tin fell neatly into my lap. I removed the lid and tipped the contents onto the floor, eyeing up my choices, weighing up the pros and cons of each quickly and efficiently.
I made a decision and delicately lifted the chosen blade with my thumb and index finger, dropping it gently into my other hand to look at properly. I rubbed my thumb across it and stared at it proudly as if it were a diamond. It was my saviour. It was this jewel that had got me through every single day of my life whenever I needed it. The cold surface started to turn warm on my skin and I picked it up again, rolling my sleeve up slowly and tracing a pattern with the blade, preparing.
Shiny. Sharp. Perfect.
The next decision I had to make was; life or death?
I'm gonna tap him like a maple tree. I'm gonna search him for some syrups. I'm gonna be having sex with him.
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NO MATTER HOW BAD YOU FEEL - ONE NICE PM TO SOMEONE NEW A DAY HELPS!!! TRY IT!!!
