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| Don't Want to Be Lonley |
| by Lydia |
She traced the 5 inch long scar on her bruised neck. The swelling had gone down and the pain had increased a bit. She clicked her morphine dispenser attached to her iv, She groaned at the thought of having a scar right across her neck, having it so visible, so out in the open, so exposed was so vulnerable. She never wanted to be a victim again. The scar was big, but the reason why the scar was there exploded through her mind over and over again.
The nurse walked in cheerfully humming some sort of tune. She was an older lady, with grey hair, short and plump, she reminded her of Mrs. Clause, Mrs. Clause always called her deary.
“Are you feeling better today deary?” she asked genuinely.
“… still not talking I see, alright, well whenever you are ready, I am here” and with that, she checked some monitors, wrote something’s on a chart gave her a warm reassuring smile and left the room.
Time seems to pass so slowly when she was in the hospital, alone, with the patients next to her to keep her company; some of them were in more pain than she was. She felt sorry for them and hated being there just as much as they did. The worst came when she tried to sleep at night. The cries of pain from other people echoing in the halls, was just to much sometimes. She would lie in bed and pray silently for peace. Tears would line her cheeks and she would wait for the pain to quietly surface, the dull ache that rose to a intense stab. She reached down and grabbed the clicker and waited for the relief to come.
The mornings seemed to make her feel lonelier than ever, it reminded her of what happened, why she was there and that it wasn’t a dream. She hears stories all the time about how there is joy with the mornings and there is always a brighter day. To her, that was all crap.
The door to her room opened. “Deary, are you up?” that familiar voice entered her room
The nurse sat of the edge of her hospital bed and touched her patient’s knee. “I know you are upset, I know you must be angry, but being angry doesn’t solve anything, being angry doesn’t benefit anyone else. Except the guy that did this to you. You give him power over you when you stay the victim, and keep silent. ”
She patted that knee again, smiled and gave her that reassuring look. The” victim” winced, rolled over and turned her back to Mrs. Clause and her helping advice. Mrs. Clause sighed and got up off the bed and had to check her normal morning routines in the room. Just before she was leaving, the nurse heard a quiet hoarse whisper from the other side of the room. “Thank you” was all her damaged patient could get out. The nurse smiled and shut the door behind her.
A month had come and gone and the nurse came in and announced. “You are going home today Adrienne!”
Adrienne shifted in her bed and pushed the tiny food tray away from her.
“Thank goodness” Adrienne said.” well, not that I want to leave you, but this food, I tell ya, it’s probably what kept me in here that extra week.” She laughed.
The nurse who now, actually had become nurse Clause to her, chuckled with her.
“Yes yes, I know.”
Adrienne got her things; whatever things were there, no cards, no balloons, no flowers, except a little bear that the nurse had given her. She called him Sandah. She left the hard bed and unfluffed pillows behind and walked out the door.
Family was something that was far from Adrienne’s mind. It sucks being an only child and having parents who, well, weren’t really around. It wasn’t there fault they didn’t want to see her. Adrienne believed it was all her fault; she is the one that drove them away. She had to live with that now. A year ago she could, but now she was alone, really alone.
She entered her apartment and threw her keys on the table. Everything was still turned over. A part of her longed to come home to a clean apartment, maybe those nice police men had cleaned up after they had finished they’re crime scene analysis. But alas, she again was alone, now in a dark, cold unforgiving apartment with nothing but a mess and a nightmare to keep her company. She slowly began cleaning everything up, chairs and papers littered the floor. The finger print powder marked everywhere on her floor, the walls and doors. She scanned her kitchen, and began to pick up the pieces of her vase that smashed on the table and spilled over onto the floor. She reached over to place the pieces in the garbage when she placed her hand on something hard and wood. It was the woodblock that had all of her kitchen knives in it.. All of the knives were neatly in a row, except for one void in the line. That knife was missing; Adrienne grabbed her throat and traced the scar on her neck. She began to sob uncontrollably. She braced her self on the counter, her breathes were coming in short surges, her legs gave out from underneath her and she collapsed on the kitchen floor.
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