The color white had never looked so sinister before. Its once elegant connotation of purity and grace, now transforms into a wretched and bland appearance. The color white was imprinted everywhere in the box; from her white gown to the ceiling panels. The lights above her head buzzed like swarm of bees in a nest and displayed dark shadows upon the white walls surrounding the patient. The monotonous beeps sounded next to her barricade of a bed, only numbing her senses even further. The machine would display the pattern of peaks synchronized with the sound of each beep. The young girl looked around this box she was sitting in, labeled as “hospital bedroom #24” and only sighed in discontent. Skin tarnished with bloody, yet precise lacerations and dark blue ovals lay scattered on her pale skin; but the wounds were the least of her problems.
The fatigued, young brunette with a sulking face and tired eyes glanced at the silhouettes that appeared on the other side of the textured glass windows. Struggling to make-out the conversation between the three figures, she read their body language for some sign of good news. Squinting her eyes in order to bring some clarity of the hazy image only made her brain feel like blades of glass hitting her. She knew that feeling all too well. After that incident…
A body shrugged and covered their face in grief as the sobs creeped under the door, trailing into the young girl’s ears. A taller figure cradled the mourner in comfort, only making the muffled cries louder; each scream with stronger pain. The sobs were like daggers stabbing into the sixteen-year-old’s chest; she only felt pain in her soul from these sounds. She relieved herself from this suffering the way she was most familiar with: closing her eyes and tuning out the world.
“Mr. and Mrs. Thompson, I am afraid that visits are not allowed at this time. I ask that you respect these rules until further notice. We would like to discharge Thalia as soon as possible, but we need to take precautionary steps in the recovery process.” I could not handle this pain any longer. The knot that was stuck deep inside of my stomach had slowly crept its way up to my throat. This wave of emotions overpowered everything in my body, overcoming my soul and mind. Seeing my own daughter lay lifeless on that barricaded chamber this place calls a “hospital bed” makes my throat close up in discomfort. I miss my baby girl. The same exact girl who would dirty her white clothes with her first grade finger painting. The same exact girl who would cover her bedroom walls with boy band posters and blast their music. The same exact girl who would talk back to me in such a bratty tone, but would quickly apologize for her attitude. I miss my daughter. If it weren’t for that truck…
Skipping to her favorite song on her “Hipster Playlist”, Thalia was on Cloud 9. With a successful end to finals week and to her Junior year of high school, she was so excited to drive home and accept the warm embrace of her parents’ warmth. As she glanced up at the stop light, the red orb emanated on top of the other colors. She had received a notification from her mom asking where and when she was getting home. It’s only one text so she might as well answer. Grabbing the phone from the cupholder, she had responded, “On my way home”. Send. It was only a couple seconds later until her mom asked, “How was the final?” From her peripheral, she glanced up from the small device and released her foot from the brake pedal. Already turning into the intersection, she began to type the last phrase, “Amazing and I will tell you when you get home! I lov-”. There was no notion the black beast that was ready to attack her on her right side. Noticing from her peripheral vision, a dark body began to grow in size and she looked up from her phone.
It all happened so quickly, yet it felt like it took a century to process what was happening. Within seconds, everything went black.
The young girl had woken up in a sweat, panting, heaving and in tears. This memory had infested the only way that can help her heal: through her sleep. How will she ever recover? The creaking is the doorknob had directors her attention toward the door. “Oh good. You are awake. You’re parents are here to see you.” Two figures had developed from behind the tall man in a white coat. They slowly approach her bed and accepted their beautiful daughter’s warmth. “We love you honey, and I am so happy that you are safe and fully recovered. We can take you home now!” The woman said in an excited, yet calming tone. Joy rushed through the teenagers body, but it had later been overcome with confusion. All of her questions had been answered as she looked down at her arms. She...healed? “I am so happy that you had successfully made it through the surgical procedure.” The doctor stated. “We can take you home right this minute!” Overjoyed, she rose from her hospital bed and began place her feet on the cold, yet soft tile floors of the room. She felt like she was flying. The two had escorted her out of the room, in an angelic manner, as they left the room, the light outside of her room was so much brighter than in her jail cell of a hospital room. She had never experienced such weight lifted from her shoulders and into the air.
“Mr. And Mrs. Thompson, I am so sorry….” The mundane beep had deviated from its typical staccato-like peaks. Grief rushed over my body once more, as a fell to the ground, crying for support. She’s gone. My little girl is gone. And I feel like this is all because of me. I just wanted her home safe, but now her safety is out of my control. She will be looking over us, rather than me looking over her.