What The Devil Doesn't Know
22
That white, sterile smell fill my nostrils as I lean my head back against the white, sterile wall. I close my eyes and sigh; I can't think any more. So many thoughts race through my head, I don't know how to control them. The white lights blind me, and a woman calls me. I follow her. She is just as white as the hallway I walk down; she is an angel among other angels, and they want Mickey and I out. We are polluting them.
Mickey lies in a white, sterile bed, facing a white, sterile wall. His eyes are big, and dull, and they point to the tubes and needles coming out of him, supporting him.
"Hello, angel."
He is too delusional to see the angels, so he mistakes me for one. I drop to my knees and cry into him.
"Why? Why?"
In a dark corner of the room, sit his clothes. Among the white, sterile place, there is a mound of blood, and hate, and sin. His pants are covered in blood; my blood. I don't know why he did it. I don't know why he poisoned himself. I don't know why he did this to me. I don't know if he did it out of love, or out of hate. But what he did hurt. I'm in so much pain, too much to move. One of the angels escorts me down the hall. The doctor asks me what happened, and I honestly can't tell him. He tells me my pelvis is fractured, and I've got some internal bleeding. I am prescribed bed rest, and a high dosage of Vicodin. A few days later, Mickey and I go home.
***
Mickey stares at me from across the table, like nothing ever happened.
"Toast?" He offers, holding out the plate. I haven't thought about eating in days.
"Fuck you." I push the food away.
"Where the hell is this coming from? We were having a great time, and now you're so fucking hostile. I haven't done a damn thing to you!"
"SHUT THE HELL UP MICKEY!" I scream, and then I lunge across the table, "You know damn well what you did! The only damn thing you haven't done is own up to it!" I feel a slight sting, and fall to the ground. A crumpled, red, teary mess.
Dear god, I'm a pitiful sight today. Red, black, and blue, I am a human rainbow. Even my old bruises are turning yellow and green. Mascara drips down my face into sad blobs. Every bone in my body is hurting me, pressing and poking my skin. The shiny, happy, girl that found her way to London has been through much too much since then. I'm just strung out, a junkie, a whore. I want to go home. I want to be that girl again. My insides are eating me, from the inside out. Oh god, what I wouldn't give to be someone else.
Mickey lies in a white, sterile bed, facing a white, sterile wall. His eyes are big, and dull, and they point to the tubes and needles coming out of him, supporting him.
"Hello, angel."
He is too delusional to see the angels, so he mistakes me for one. I drop to my knees and cry into him.
"Why? Why?"
In a dark corner of the room, sit his clothes. Among the white, sterile place, there is a mound of blood, and hate, and sin. His pants are covered in blood; my blood. I don't know why he did it. I don't know why he poisoned himself. I don't know why he did this to me. I don't know if he did it out of love, or out of hate. But what he did hurt. I'm in so much pain, too much to move. One of the angels escorts me down the hall. The doctor asks me what happened, and I honestly can't tell him. He tells me my pelvis is fractured, and I've got some internal bleeding. I am prescribed bed rest, and a high dosage of Vicodin. A few days later, Mickey and I go home.
***
Mickey stares at me from across the table, like nothing ever happened.
"Toast?" He offers, holding out the plate. I haven't thought about eating in days.
"Fuck you." I push the food away.
"Where the hell is this coming from? We were having a great time, and now you're so fucking hostile. I haven't done a damn thing to you!"
"SHUT THE HELL UP MICKEY!" I scream, and then I lunge across the table, "You know damn well what you did! The only damn thing you haven't done is own up to it!" I feel a slight sting, and fall to the ground. A crumpled, red, teary mess.
Dear god, I'm a pitiful sight today. Red, black, and blue, I am a human rainbow. Even my old bruises are turning yellow and green. Mascara drips down my face into sad blobs. Every bone in my body is hurting me, pressing and poking my skin. The shiny, happy, girl that found her way to London has been through much too much since then. I'm just strung out, a junkie, a whore. I want to go home. I want to be that girl again. My insides are eating me, from the inside out. Oh god, what I wouldn't give to be someone else.