We've Learned to Run from Anything Uncomfortable

Sunday, May 29th

I opened my eyes to the harsh white light of a hospital room. I looked down at my wrist, an IV decorating the back of my hand. There were tons of voices talking outside, mumbling incoherent sentences. There was so much going on, I could barely listen to one at a time.

My sheets were crisp, starchy, and slightly itchy. I shifted uncomfortably and sat upright in my cot. I looked to the side of my bed and saw a tray with a small cup of water on it. I reached one frail arm over and downed the cup of water. Looking down the hallway, I noticed a lot of familiar faces from school.

As bad as it sounds, I really hope some disastrous thing happened at school and they were all here to visit whoever was hurt in the situation. But, in the back of my mind, I knew they were here to visit me. As much as that entire school hated me, they had to have a part in everyone’s life, and if that included the stupid foster kid with the abusive mom, then albeit, they were going to show up here.

There was only one person that I wanted to be outside that door. Not with a stupid bundle of flowers, a stuffed bear, or some stupid gift. I just wanted him to be here so I could talk to him, tell him what happened.

When I say what happened, I mean everything. Everything as in; why I’m in a foster home in the first place, why everyone at that stupid school hates my guts, and what happened to me and why I’m in the hospital. I wanted to trust Oli with my life and tell him everything about me.

Scared as I am, I know that Oli isn’t someone who’s here just to fuck me over. He doesn’t know my past, and he doesn’t care that much, or else he’d have already asked me. Oli likes me for what he sees, even if its broken and bruised in a few spots. He knows that I’m not confident in myself, he knows that I’m too scared to love anyone, and he also knows that I just want to be cared about. And the best thing about that, is I don’t have to tell him all that. He already knows.

He showed up two weeks ago, all the way from across the world and he read me like an open book, tearing out pages that don’t belong and writing his own short stories to accompany my other ones. He took notes, knowing that offering me a smoke could get him anywhere. He didn’t push me when I didn’t want to talk, and he didn’t leave me when I’d ignore him.

He wasn’t talking to me to get gossip. He genuinely gave a fuck about me and cared about what was going on at home, who was causing me problems at school. Oli wanted to make me feel like I mattered, and for that, I put him up on the wall of amazing people I know.

You know how many people are up there?

Two.

Oli and Kaela.

Kaela was one of my older foster sisters I had after the car wreck. She helped me through everything and taught me who to be. She shaped me into the person I am today. Even if I’m closed off, and somewhat bitchy, I applaud her for that, because after she changed me, I stopped getting hurt and that’s all I ask for.

Oli is up there because he cares. That’s it. He cares.

Even as I sit in this stupid hospital room, with all the bruises and cuts on my body, my dry, chapped lips and no nurse to smile in my face as I open my eyes, I know that Oli cares.

If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have come by my house to drop off my hat. I smiled at the thought, as a nurse came into my room with another small paper cup and a plastic cup full of a clear liquid I assumed to be water.

I watched as she walked around to my side of the bed, her hips bumping into the edge of my cot, as she tried squeezing her way over to my sliver tray. Her lightly graying red hair was pulled into a frizzy bun, and she had a sweet, chubby face with a small smile set upon her lips.

“Hey Sam.” She said quietly, setting the water down, “How are you feeling sweetheart?”

I placed a hand on my forehead, “Well, these lights are kind of killing me, but other than that, I think I’ll be okay.”

“Well here,” She said, placing three different pills in my hand, “This one is for the pain, that one is for the nausea the pain pill is going to cause, and the third one is for the headache you will be getting later.”

I laughed slightly and swallowed each one with the help of the nurse, who handed me my water every time I placed a pill in my mouth, “Thanks. What’s your name?”

“I’m Maggie.” She grinned.

“Do you know when I can get out of here?” I mumbled, shifting around in my bed, trying to sit up.

“Well, they need to find you another home to stay in, so it might be a while. But, you have lots of visitors to keep you company, let me go get them!”

“No!” I yelled slightly, “I mean, I don’t want any visitors. I don’t feel well.”

“Are you sure? They’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”

“Well,” I mumbled, “Is there a really tall, skinny guy with lip rings?”

“Oh heavens no.” She smiled, “Why do you ask?”

I looked down, playing with the IV in my hand and bit my lip, “Just wondering.. He hasn’t come by at all?”

“No dear, I don’t think so.”

“Okay, well I don’t want visitors, unless he shows up. His name is Oliver Sykes, and he has an accent. A British one.”

“Alright dear. I’ll tell the others to go home.”

I smiled softly as she left the room. I heard her elderly voice telling everyone to go home, slight protests following.

I looked up at the small TV on the wall, and decided I wanted to turn it on. I looked around the room for the remote. It wasn’t on the side of my bed, not on my silver tray, or attached to my pillow. I couldn’t find the stupid thing anywhere. Giving up, I sighed loosely and lay back down. This time, I turned around in my bed so that I was facing the wall.

My eyes drooped slightly, becoming really heavy and eventually falling shut. I welcomed the darkness and wrapped a hand underneath my stomach, holding one of the bandages in between two of my fingers.

Maggie must have given me a sleeping pill as well, because I couldn’t keep myself from drifting to sleep after waking up just ten minutes ago.

“Sam, sweetie. Mom and Dad love you very much, we want you to know that.”

I looked up at my mom, peering into her blue eyes, very much like my own, except rimmed with tears, “Why are you crying?”

My dad walked into the room, his hair a wild mess, and holding back tears as well, “Did you tell her yet?”

“Jesus Craig. I’ve only been talking to her for two minutes.” My mom snapped.

“Fuck Casey.” He muttered.

“Daddy, why are you saying bad words? What’s happening?” I asked, directing my gaze back at my mom. I was a little girl, not very familiar with my parents giving me bad news.
My mom clutched her swollen belly and grimaced slightly, “Well, sweetie, Sam, baby.”

“Casey. Get it done!” My dad yelled.

“You know what? I’m not exactly keen on telling my daughter that we have to get rid of her because you fucked up and decided that you wanted to be a drunk!”

"Because I'm a drunk? Well, you're the dumb bitch who decided to get pregnant!"

“Your getting rid of me?”

“Oh baby.” My mom sighed, wrapping me in a hug and crying, “You know that we love you and we don’t want to get rid of you.”

I pushed her as hard as my little eight year old arms were capable of and cried, “Its because of the new baby, isn’t it? It’s not even here yet, and you already love that stupid thing more than you love me!”

I ran as fast as my legs could carry me and tripped through my bedroom door. I pulled out my pink backpack and piled in all my barbies. I grabbed my favorite pajamas and gathered together my princess dress and my light up shoes. I threw my backpack over my shoulder and sat down next to Spider, my puppy who was now three years old.

My mother came into the room, her belly barely fitting past my bed as she sat down next to me and wrapped her arms around me, tears pouring from her eyes.

“I know that you’re upset Sweetie, but we can’t do much right now. You’ll have a much better home where you’re going. Me and Daddy don’t have enough money for two babies and you’re a big girl now, you can do it on your own.”

“Can I bring Spider?”

“No Sammy, Spider has to stay here. They don’t want animals where your going.”

“That’s not going to be a better home!” I yelled, standing up, “Any home without Spider is not a better home!”

I stomped out of my bedroom, my mom trying to follow me and I threw open my front door. Slamming it shut behind me, I sat down on the doorstep. A couple minutes later, I heard the door creak open softly and my dad came and sat down next to me, his mug full of fresh coffee, and a sad look upon his unshaven face.

“You know this isn’t your fault, right Bud?” He asked, poking me in the shoulder.

I looked up, my eyes full of tears, “Its that stupid baby’s fault. If he never came along, you and mom would still love me.. And you wouldn’t be making me leave. Then I wouldn’t have to live without Spider. That dumb baby ruined everything.”

“Sam, it’s not the baby’s fault.” My dad sighed, “Your mom and I just need time to figure things out.”

“Well. Fine Dad. Do I get to come home once you’re done figuring them out?”

“Someday baby. Someday.”

I shot up my hospital cot, my breath seized in my throat. I reached over and downed the rest of my lukewarm water and rubbed the tears from my eyes.

I looked outside to see the moon set high in the sky, stars twinkling all around it and I sighed softly as I realized that Oliver was no where in sight.