And it'll be a little while yet, guys, there's some stuff I have to sort out.
My friend's okay :) Which is happy times.
But there's been a load of crap going on and we don't REALLY know what to do about it, so we're trying to make that better :/
Sorry if it takes a while.
But I'll write more soon, promise :)
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.
Sorry it's taken so long :)
But a couple of things are *hopefully* starting to look up.
Here's the next chapter and I hope it's okay.
Chapter Thirteen
“Look, she’s waking up.” I heard my brother James’ voice before I saw his face and felt a hot, clammy hand touch down upon my own. It was shaking and I heard him sniff as if he’d been crying.
I squinted my eyes against the brightness of the lights as James’ and my father’s faces swam into focus. They were both smiling at me sadly and I could see James’ eyes were puffy and red. I half-heartedly looked around the room in an attempt to see my mother whilst not expecting much at all. I felt mildly disappointed but not surprised when I saw she wasn’t there, followed by a slight annoyance after my father told me she couldn’t get off work when I’d asked for her.
For the next half an hour, I enjoyed the time I got to spend with James and my father as we sat around laughing and joking at general happenings with school and work after giggling at James for his blatant lie when I asked him if he’d been crying; he wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve and attempted to make his voice sound gruff and manly as he said no. Puberty failed him and he squeaked his reply instead, giving me a gentle punch on the arm when I laughed. We darted the subject of my suicide attempt, ignoring the beep of the machine next to me and the surroundings of the sadness inside a hospital.
After what seemed like a very short time, a nurse pulled back the curtains surrounding my bed and told James and my father that visiting time was over and that I needed my rest. I got a kiss on the forehead from my father and a thumbs up from James – emotional physical contact was never really his thing. After they left, the nurse came in to check on me, took my blood pressure and pulse rate, then left as well after writing down notes and telling me someone would be coming to talk to me a little later on.
Being alone behind the curtains, I was unable to do anything except think. Every ounce of self-hatred I’d ever felt washed over me and burned my memory, slicing away any happiness I’d felt in the company of my father and my brother. Images of Naomi flashed into my mind, which cut me like a knife and my eyes stung with tears. I refused to let them spill and wiped them away angrily, trying to force myself to think about something else. Anything else. But the memory of her face close to mine before she kissed me replayed itself like a broken record.
I looked up as the curtains were drew back and a woman in a suit carrying a clipboard and pen walked in and sat on the chair next to me, introducing herself as Mary, the hospital’s psychiatrist. I shuffled awkwardly away from where she was sat and she smiled warmly at me, telling me there was nothing to be afraid of, it was hospital procedure after suicide attempts. I cringed at the thought of trying to take my own life and failing at that, just as I had done with everything else.
She put her pen to paper and began to ask me questions; was I on any medication? Had I tried anything like this before? How long had I been self-harming? How long had I had an eating disorder for? Routine questions she said. I felt uncomfortable answering them and lies I’d been using for years rolled off my tongue and fell onto her clipboard hesitantly, causing a subconscious lift of her left eyebrow and a quick glance in my direction; had she seen through my lies? She didn’t ask. I didn’t care.
After asking all of the questions, she explained to me that I would not be going back to Bridgend Clinic; I had needs that they couldn’t cater for. A pang of sadness hit me as I realised I wouldn’t be seeing Louise again. But the sadness was brief and quickly replaced by a smirk on my face. You’ll be free to get your control back again. Mary saw the smile and looked confused. I wiped it off my face and asked her if it meant I was going home. I was already making plans to convince my parents I was better, then slowly incorporating my old friend back into my daily routine. I would just need to hide things more effectively.
“No, Keira.” Mary cut me short and my plans disappeared. My head snapped up to stare at her and my mouth dropped open as she told me exactly what was going to happen. “There’s a very safe, very secure psychiatric unit a couple of hours from here. Once the staff here at the hospital think you’re stable enough, I’m afraid you’re going to have to be admitted. It’s the only place we can send you with confidence that you will be safe.”
“I’m not sick,” I whispered.
Mary gave me a sympathetic smile. “Keira, you tried to kill yourself. You’re a danger to yourself and until we can prove otherwise, you’re going to be admitted to the psychiatric unit. We’ve talked to your parents and they’ve already agreed. You’re not getting out of this.”
With that, Mary stood up and left my bedside, closing the curtain behind her and leaving me watching after her, the threatening tears finally beginning to spill and disbelief etched all over my face.
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.
