Categories > Original > Romance > If Only1 Reviews
I turned to him with an irritated expression. "I don't need a nurse to watch me look up at the sky." I responded bluntly. "I'm quite capable of taking care of myself." "The bandages on your arm ...
i; [is this the way you let your problems drift away to?]
The soft sounds of machinery doing their work filled in my ears slowly, quietly sneaking into my dream I was having and tricking my mind into thinking it was apart of it. After a while, it became evident that the sounds were not really part of my dream, and that I was indeed awake now. I tried to fall back asleep, but the attempt failed as the sound of curtains being ripped open, heels clicking against a tile floor, and a door slamming shut rang loudly in my ears.
I opened my eyes, squinting against the bright sunlight that spilled from open blinds that leaned against the window, birds chirping wildly outside. As my eyes adjusted quickly to the light, I sat up and looked around. The room I was in was white all around excluding the metal and plastic machinery close by the bed I sat in, and two plastic chairs shoved in the corner. It held a sterile feeling, one I soon pinpointed with one place: a hospital.
"Damn," I muttered to myself, brushing dark locks of hair out of my face. Not only did I not want to be up, but I also didn't want to be in a hospital. I glanced down at my left arm, white bandages covering it from the elbow down. I was sad that the cuts couldn't be visible to remind me what I was striving for.
I leaned back in the bed, thinking back to the night before. I couldn't see how they would have known; they were downstairs bickering again over bills and money. I remembered being in the bathroom, sitting in the tub, the shower running. I was self-inflicting again, and enjoying it more than usual.
I ran my hand over the bandages, feeling the cuts sting underneath the bandages. A small smile crept onto my face as I remembered the way the scissors felt ripping through my skin; the feeling of being cleansed taking over all others.
The door opened. I turned to see who was entering, expecting one of the nurses coming in to check in on me. I was wrong; it was my father. I turned my head in the opposite direction, not wanting to look at him. I knew what he was going to say, it was always the same. He was either going to blame my mother on this, or claim that I should have told him because he cares.
He pulled a chair from the corner and brought it to the side of the bed, sitting down in it. He remained silent for a few moments, then said, "Where did we go wrong, Jada?"
I held back the urge to laugh. "When you and Mom started bickering all the damn time."
He looked up at me. "You could have said someth-"
I turned to face him. "Just so you could act like you cared?" I interrupted. "Oh yeah, I forgot. That'll make you look good for when you and Mom finally get divorced and fight for custody over little ol' me."
We sat in silence for a couple of minutes.
"I'm worried about you, Jada," he said quietly. He walked over and wrapped his arms around me, embracing me in a hug. I had to hold back another urge: the feeling to flinch. "I wish you'd stop shutting yourself out from everybody." He whispered in my ear before letting go and walking out of the room.
I huffed loudly as the door shut and crossed my arms irritably over my chest.
A little while later, the door opened once more. I opened my mouth to tell my father to "GO AWAY", but shut it as soon as I realized that it wasn't him. I blinked questionably as a young man walked, black hair pulled into a low ponytail and bright blue eyes hidden behind a pair of silver frame glasses.
He gave me a small smile. "Good Morning," he paused, looking down at the clipboard he held and took a seat in the chair by the bed, "Jada. I'm Damien, the hospital's resident counselor."
Counselor. I ran the word through my mind. Oh god, counselors liked to help people and talk to them about their problems. Damn it. I watched him for a moment. I could tell by just the first few minutes with him that he liked to smile...a lot. It was creepy, and something I was not comfortable with people doing.
"Your father asked me to speak with you." He continued on, pushing up the glasses with an index finger.
"AHA!" I spoke out loud. "I knew he was going to do something like this. Grand." I rolled my eyes.
The counselor gave me a questionable look. "I take it that your father is rather predictable?" he inquired. I swore to myself that he was just acting interested for the sake of his job.
I sat up wildly. "Oh no, you're not questioning me!" I snapped out, trying to get up out of the bed. It was rather a struggle for it being a simple bed. I groaned out angrily, muttering, "Damn bed...!"
He sat there for a moment with an amused smile on his lips. I finally gave up and flopped back on the pillows, glaring at him like it was his fault that I couldn't get out of the bed. I decided to place all blame on him right then.
"Are you done?" he asked, throwing the clipboard to the floor. I glared at him, hoping my expression told him that he was currently being blamed. He sighed. "Just like everybody else." He stood up and walked to the window.
"What do ya mean, like everybody else?!" I snapped. The urge to throw something at him was growing tremendously.
"I am not here to question you to see whether you need medication or not, I am here to be someone you can talk to." He spoke quite distantly. He turned to me. "Everybody seems to forget that I'm a counselor, not a doctor." He gave me a smile.
"So," he continued, standing by his seat. "It's up to you whether you just want to talk or not."
"I hate people like you." I spat out irritably.
"Figured you would." He stood, grabbing the clipboard from the floor and walking to the door. "If you need to talk, just ask one of the nurses for a guy named Damien, alright?" He gave a wave then left.
I looked out the window. Right. Like I really wanted to talk to him.
Hours later and no more visits from my father or that counselor, I managed to figure out how to climb out of the bed with no help. I was quite proud of myself as I sat in a chair near the window, watching the world outside pass me by. The sun had started to sink behind the tall buildings that surrounded the hospital, and I could hear the nurses moving around in the hallways with carts full of medication.
A nurse walked by, the squeaky wheels of the cart slowly going passed the door to the room. After I was sure the nurse was gone and attending other patients, I quickly unhooked the latch to the window and climbed outside. There was a small balcony outside the window with a ladder that lead up and down. The metal of the ladder felt cool to my bare feet as I started to climb up, thankful that I was wearing pants.
I reached the top of the building and stared up at the sky, the colors running together at random. I sat on the edge, my backside facing the ground below. I leaned back a little, completely confident in my balance being steady. I kept my focus on the sky above. I didn't realize how focused I was until someone placed their hand on my shoulder and gave a greeting.
I jumped, my heart jumping into my throat. "Oh my God, Doctor I'm sorr-" I blurted out wildly until I turned to see who it was. It was the counselor. "Nevermind, it's just you." I turned my attention back to the sky.
He gave me a small fake pout. "Aw, do I not get a proper greeting?" he asked, taking his hand off of my shoulder and leaning against the edge.
"No." I replied quickly, giving him an irritated glance. Maybe he would get the hint that I didn't want him around and leave.
He started to talk; obviously he didn't catch the hint. "Now what are you doing up here? You're not supposed to be up here on the rooftop without a nurse." he said, looking at me from above his glasses.
I turned to him with an irritated expression. "I don't need a nurse to watch me look up at the sky." I responded bluntly. "I'm quite capable of taking care of myself."
"The bandages on your arm state otherwise." he stated simply.
I stood up. I really wanted to punch him in his face now. I swallowed down the urge. "Shut up." I climbed up onto the edge and stood there, looking down at him. "If I wanted to hear your irritating responses, I would've invited you into my room earlier for a chat." I placed my hands onto my waist.
He looked up at me before pushing himself away from the edge. "Suit yourself." he said, placing his hands inside the pockets of his jacket and started walking away. "You'll talk eventually."
I gaped angrily at him. Who the hell did he think he was? "Like HELL I'll talk!" I yelled at him. "I'll be dead before you can even convince me to talk to you!" He shrugged his shoulders, and sat on the other side of the roof. I balled my hands into fists angrily as he just sat there and watched me.
"What, are you just going to sit there and watch me until I go inside?" I snapped at him. I could see the smile snaking onto his face from where I stood.
"Pretty much." he said calmly. "I do enjoy watching young ladies such as yourself stand outside on rooftops and freeze from lack of proper clothing." I shivered a little; he was right, it was chilly out. That was only to be expected, with it being later October and everything. But I wouldn't admit it to him that I was getting cold.
I growled loudly at him. I needed something to throw at him; I looked around on the ground until I found a rock. I slipped off the ledge and grabbed it, pulling my shoulder back and throwing it at him. I watched disappointedly as it sailed over his head.
He brought a hand up to his mouth, trying to hide the fact that he was laughing at me. "If you're going to laugh at me, you could at least not hide it from me." I said as calmly as I could as I walked over to the side of the roof he was on.
He grinned as I climbed up onto the ledge and sat facing the street. We sat in silence after that, the sounds of the city's busy nightlife reaching up towards us. The sky darkened and stars began to sprinkle it. Eventually, he broke the silence.
"What were you trying to accomplish?" he asked, buttoning a few buttons on his jacket. I visibly shivered and gave him a questionable look over my shoulder.
"Why do you wanna know?" I ran my hands over my arms. I was cold and I was cursing him and his name in my head for him having a jacket.
"I'm just curious." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "But since you told me you're not going to talk, I'll strike you up a deal. You answer my question and I'll give you my jacket."
"I'm not col-!" I started to retort back. A shiver shot up my spine and I uncontrollably grabbed my arms and curled up a little.
"Don't deny it; you're freezing." I could hear the smirk in his voice. He was taunting me, I swore he was.
Left with no other choices, I gave in. "Fine. You wanna know why?" I turned so just my leg with hanging over the edge. "I hate my life. I wasn't trying to commit suicide, even though it looks that way. I was..." I paused. "...escaping."
He stared at me in thought for a few seconds after I finished then spoke. "The fact that you weren't trying to commit suicide changes everything."
"You seriously thought I was trying to commit suicide?" I asked, blankly glaring at him. He shifted a little.
"...Yes." he replied, giving me an embarrassed look from over his shoulder. "Oh, here's my jacket as I promised." He unbuttoned and pull it off, handing it to me. It felt warm in my hands and I held it close to me before putting it on. I buttoned up a couple of the buttons and hugged it close to me.
"Are there many scars on your arm?" he asked. I looked at the back of his head for a moment. If he thought I was going to open up to him now that I was warming up, he had another thing coming. "I have no reason to answer that."
"Ah yes." he pushed himself away from the ledge and started to walk toward the door to inside the building. "You need to be bribed to talk." With that, he opened the door and disappeared inside, leaving me outside with his jacket on and the city to distract me.