nurse to the patients you’ve been assigned to,” another woman with a deeper voice chimes in. “You were warned not to get attached to the patients during clinicals.”
“Well, I can’t help it okay!” my nurse snaps. “Her life has been so tragic. So sad and brutal. A person has to have ice in their veins to not feel for someone who has been through so much. One of these days, I’m going to tell her the truth.”
“You can’t!” nurse two cries out. “Have you lost your mind? You know what will happen if you do! We’ve been warned! We can’t tell her anything!”
“I don’t care.”
“If you value your job at all, you will.”
There’s a brief moment of silence.
My nurse speaks up. “So let them fire me then. Let them fire me for wanting to not keep one patient in the dark.”
“It’s not a good idea, Maggie.”
“I disagree, Rhea. That poor woman has suffered long enough. I’ve listened to her cries. Comforted her when she’s had nightmares about her past. Watched her hopeful eyes while she watches the visitors come and go and watched her sink into a deep depression when he never shows up.”
“Maggie, you can’t.”
“I can and I will. Someone needs to tell her, Rhea. Someone needs to tell her that her Elijah never comes and isn’t here because he’s dead.”
Chapter Twenty One
~After~
Weeks pass.
Weeks pass, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt emptier than I have lately.
I feel like a shell of a person.
A waste of space.
All of my days have passed by so quickly that my time is starting to feel like a blur. And on another note, I no longer care. I have days where I wonder if this is normal. Or common for that much. I have days where I can be in a room surrounded by people and feel so alone. Then I wonder if that feeling will ever go away.
Probably not.
I guess that’s what happens when you find out that everything you’ve ever believed in has been a lie.
Dr. Swell hasn’t even noticed that my file is missing. And if she has, she hasn’t mentioned anything during our sessions. I don’t think she cares anyway.
During the day, I seem to feel okay. But it’s not until night, when I’m lying in my dark cell, alone with my thoughts that my mind really starts to wander. And when I think about Elijah, and my daughter that’s when the pain starts searing through me. That’s when my limbs start twitching. And when my heart starts pounding. That’s when I usually wind up sobbing so hard that I’m gasping for air, unable to control myself.
I’ve been telling myself for the last week that dying would be easier than living in hell on earth.
I can remember a time in my life when the only thing I ever wanted was the Grim Reaper’s kiss. I can remember a time where I would have gladly tilted my head to the side just to feel his icy breath on my neck.
I feel that way again now.
I always used to think that dying was too easy.
Too quick.
Too cowardly.
I always used to think that living was the greatest triumph of a person’s life because if you can make it through life without becoming damaged then you’ve succeeded. I didn’t have a shot in hell at attempting a beautiful life.
My mother died.
My father was an abusive drunk who hung himself in prison. I could have sworn I saw him once after the fact, but I was wrong.
I practically raised myself.
I thought that Damien was the only good thing I ever had, but apparently that was a lie too. It stated in my file that he was a part of me and I know it’s true. He told me so himself.
He really was the best kind of illusion after all.
And Elijah…
Thinking of Dr. Watson committing suicide makes me sick to my stomach. Reading his obituary made me want to curl up into a ball and cry harder than I’ve ever cried before. And on top of that, we had a daughter together. She was taken from me. And a gnawing worry feeds on my brain because I don’t know whether she’s dead
“Well, I can’t help it okay!” my nurse snaps. “Her life has been so tragic. So sad and brutal. A person has to have ice in their veins to not feel for someone who has been through so much. One of these days, I’m going to tell her the truth.”
“You can’t!” nurse two cries out. “Have you lost your mind? You know what will happen if you do! We’ve been warned! We can’t tell her anything!”
“I don’t care.”
“If you value your job at all, you will.”
There’s a brief moment of silence.
My nurse speaks up. “So let them fire me then. Let them fire me for wanting to not keep one patient in the dark.”
“It’s not a good idea, Maggie.”
“I disagree, Rhea. That poor woman has suffered long enough. I’ve listened to her cries. Comforted her when she’s had nightmares about her past. Watched her hopeful eyes while she watches the visitors come and go and watched her sink into a deep depression when he never shows up.”
“Maggie, you can’t.”
“I can and I will. Someone needs to tell her, Rhea. Someone needs to tell her that her Elijah never comes and isn’t here because he’s dead.”
Chapter Twenty One
~After~
Weeks pass.
Weeks pass, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt emptier than I have lately.
I feel like a shell of a person.
A waste of space.
All of my days have passed by so quickly that my time is starting to feel like a blur. And on another note, I no longer care. I have days where I wonder if this is normal. Or common for that much. I have days where I can be in a room surrounded by people and feel so alone. Then I wonder if that feeling will ever go away.
Probably not.
I guess that’s what happens when you find out that everything you’ve ever believed in has been a lie.
Dr. Swell hasn’t even noticed that my file is missing. And if she has, she hasn’t mentioned anything during our sessions. I don’t think she cares anyway.
During the day, I seem to feel okay. But it’s not until night, when I’m lying in my dark cell, alone with my thoughts that my mind really starts to wander. And when I think about Elijah, and my daughter that’s when the pain starts searing through me. That’s when my limbs start twitching. And when my heart starts pounding. That’s when I usually wind up sobbing so hard that I’m gasping for air, unable to control myself.
I’ve been telling myself for the last week that dying would be easier than living in hell on earth.
I can remember a time in my life when the only thing I ever wanted was the Grim Reaper’s kiss. I can remember a time where I would have gladly tilted my head to the side just to feel his icy breath on my neck.
I feel that way again now.
I always used to think that dying was too easy.
Too quick.
Too cowardly.
I always used to think that living was the greatest triumph of a person’s life because if you can make it through life without becoming damaged then you’ve succeeded. I didn’t have a shot in hell at attempting a beautiful life.
My mother died.
My father was an abusive drunk who hung himself in prison. I could have sworn I saw him once after the fact, but I was wrong.
I practically raised myself.
I thought that Damien was the only good thing I ever had, but apparently that was a lie too. It stated in my file that he was a part of me and I know it’s true. He told me so himself.
He really was the best kind of illusion after all.
And Elijah…
Thinking of Dr. Watson committing suicide makes me sick to my stomach. Reading his obituary made me want to curl up into a ball and cry harder than I’ve ever cried before. And on top of that, we had a daughter together. She was taken from me. And a gnawing worry feeds on my brain because I don’t know whether she’s dead
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