was hoarse and my throat felt like sandpaper. “Is anyone there?”
If this was purgatory it was ten times worse than anything I could have conjured up myself.
“Good luck,” a deep voice spoke up from beside me. I craned my neck to find the source and my eyes fell on a man stretched out in a bed a few feet away from mine. His arm was in a sling and his leg was extended in a cast. He was also covered in bruises.
“Sorry?”
He smiled at me and held up a small remote. “I’ve been buzzing for them for awhile.”
“Oh.” I sat up straighter and brushed my sweat drenched hair out of my face. A sour feeling bubbled in the pit of my stomach. “Well would you mind trying one more time?”
The man laughed and gave me a peculiar look. “Sure,” he said, “but don’t I don’t think they usually just ‘release’ people who try to…well you know…”
“Excuse me?”
He nodded at me. “Wait, let me guess, it was an accident?”
There was no point in trying to make conversation with him. “Fuck off,” I said, rolling my eyes and tearing my gaze from his.
He scoffed but continued to look amused. “What’s your name?” he pressed on, sitting up in his bed.
I tried to ignore him but his eyes burned against my face.. “Venus,” I answered dully, craning my neck to look out the door. “God, are they really not going to come?”
“Well, Venus,” he said with a slight smile, extending his arm that wasn’t in the sling to me, “I’m Stephen.”
I sighed and gave his hand a quick shake. “So what happened?” he asked, getting right to the point.
“Why do you care?” I bit back, freeing myself from his grasp. I couldn’t remember signing up for a game of twenty questions.
“Hey,” he chuckled, “I’m just making conversation. If you want to know the truth, my pain level is at about a twenty right now. Talking helps.”
I glanced at him again. He did look pretty bad. “Car accident,” he said, appearing to read my mind. “I was t-boned by a drunk driver.”
My fathers face flashed through my head and I swallowed hard. “Oh,” I replied, softening. My eyes focused on a crimson smudge on the tile between our beds. Was it blood or something else? “I drank too much at my younger sisters graduation party. Blacked out, I guess.”
He nodded slowly and ran his fingers through his dark hair, pulling slightly at his roots. I took in the surroundings between us. He was connected to machines too and his IV bag was close to running dry. The deep bags beneath his dark eyes told me that he had been here a lot longer than me. I sat up and adjusted myself, flinching at the sharp pain in my abdomen. Tears welled up in the corners of my eyes but I rubbed them away with the back of my hand, not allowing them to spill over.
An Indian man in a white coat and baby blue scrubs entered the room whistling. Stephen nodded at him and told him to help me first. I smiled and thanked him, briefly meeting his gaze.
“So how are we doing?” the doctor spoke up, removing the stethoscope from around his neck and pressing it against my chest. “You gave us quite the scare.”
I nodded and swallowed hard, finding my voice. “I’m fine,” I answered, watching him jot something down on his clipboard. “But my stomach is really killing me. Is there anything you can give me?”
He shook his head. “Some cramping is normal after having your stomach pumped,” he retorted, re-adjusting the stethoscope on his neck, “we want to give your body some time to re-adjust before we give you anything for the pain.”
Stomach pumped?
“Venus, the state of Washington requires us to admit anyone who attempts suicide on a mandatory psychiatric hold for at least twenty-four hours. Are you aware of this?”
What the hell?
“Sorry,” I spoke up, interrupting him, “but I don’t know what you are talking about. I’m not suicidal. This is a misunderstanding. It was an—”
“Accident?”
“Yes,” I whispered,
If this was purgatory it was ten times worse than anything I could have conjured up myself.
“Good luck,” a deep voice spoke up from beside me. I craned my neck to find the source and my eyes fell on a man stretched out in a bed a few feet away from mine. His arm was in a sling and his leg was extended in a cast. He was also covered in bruises.
“Sorry?”
He smiled at me and held up a small remote. “I’ve been buzzing for them for awhile.”
“Oh.” I sat up straighter and brushed my sweat drenched hair out of my face. A sour feeling bubbled in the pit of my stomach. “Well would you mind trying one more time?”
The man laughed and gave me a peculiar look. “Sure,” he said, “but don’t I don’t think they usually just ‘release’ people who try to…well you know…”
“Excuse me?”
He nodded at me. “Wait, let me guess, it was an accident?”
There was no point in trying to make conversation with him. “Fuck off,” I said, rolling my eyes and tearing my gaze from his.
He scoffed but continued to look amused. “What’s your name?” he pressed on, sitting up in his bed.
I tried to ignore him but his eyes burned against my face.. “Venus,” I answered dully, craning my neck to look out the door. “God, are they really not going to come?”
“Well, Venus,” he said with a slight smile, extending his arm that wasn’t in the sling to me, “I’m Stephen.”
I sighed and gave his hand a quick shake. “So what happened?” he asked, getting right to the point.
“Why do you care?” I bit back, freeing myself from his grasp. I couldn’t remember signing up for a game of twenty questions.
“Hey,” he chuckled, “I’m just making conversation. If you want to know the truth, my pain level is at about a twenty right now. Talking helps.”
I glanced at him again. He did look pretty bad. “Car accident,” he said, appearing to read my mind. “I was t-boned by a drunk driver.”
My fathers face flashed through my head and I swallowed hard. “Oh,” I replied, softening. My eyes focused on a crimson smudge on the tile between our beds. Was it blood or something else? “I drank too much at my younger sisters graduation party. Blacked out, I guess.”
He nodded slowly and ran his fingers through his dark hair, pulling slightly at his roots. I took in the surroundings between us. He was connected to machines too and his IV bag was close to running dry. The deep bags beneath his dark eyes told me that he had been here a lot longer than me. I sat up and adjusted myself, flinching at the sharp pain in my abdomen. Tears welled up in the corners of my eyes but I rubbed them away with the back of my hand, not allowing them to spill over.
An Indian man in a white coat and baby blue scrubs entered the room whistling. Stephen nodded at him and told him to help me first. I smiled and thanked him, briefly meeting his gaze.
“So how are we doing?” the doctor spoke up, removing the stethoscope from around his neck and pressing it against my chest. “You gave us quite the scare.”
I nodded and swallowed hard, finding my voice. “I’m fine,” I answered, watching him jot something down on his clipboard. “But my stomach is really killing me. Is there anything you can give me?”
He shook his head. “Some cramping is normal after having your stomach pumped,” he retorted, re-adjusting the stethoscope on his neck, “we want to give your body some time to re-adjust before we give you anything for the pain.”
Stomach pumped?
“Venus, the state of Washington requires us to admit anyone who attempts suicide on a mandatory psychiatric hold for at least twenty-four hours. Are you aware of this?”
What the hell?
“Sorry,” I spoke up, interrupting him, “but I don’t know what you are talking about. I’m not suicidal. This is a misunderstanding. It was an—”
“Accident?”
“Yes,” I whispered,
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