The Wasted Days.

Jared pleaded with me to let them keep me at the hospital this time. He swore it wouldn’t be a waste, but I kind of figured he didn’t consider anything much of a waste when it came to me. He was almost crying again by the time I finally gave in. I just hoped things would be easier on him this way.

I’ve always hated hospitals, almost as much as Lexa hates them. We have the same list of reasons really, too. She’d always been super close to her grandma. She’d stayed inside the too-clean smelling white walls of the hospital for almost a month just to watch her grandma slowly fade until she was just a dead, wilted flower. We’d stayed with her even though both Jared and I knew that nothing was getting better.

It took a year for us to get back the old Lexa.

My experience wasn’t any better, only it was literally the hospital’s fault. My mom and her sister had been extremely close, until they screwed up in a minor surgery, anyway. I decided that that was the point when my parents started to disappear periodically. They were always working, I figured it was my mom’s way of coping.

Running away.

At least she’s consistent.

So, I guess I knew this wouldn’t really help Jared in the end, but I could still hope. Maybe it would ease just a little bit of his pain.

They’d stuck a needle in my arm. It was an IV, but I can’t be sure of what it was doing. A clear liquid continues to drip steadily into the tube that connected to me. I didn’t feel any different.

I still don’t as Jared jiggles disgustingly green jell-o in my face half-heartedly. There’s a grin on his face, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. They’re just deep pools of blue, holding so much despair that it was almost impossible to not look away. A tiny bit of false hope clings to his facade, not effecting me in the least. I know they told him how long there’s left.

I have an expiration date. I feel like a jug of milk waiting to sour.

I listen to the clock ticking rather than Jared’s pleading voice as he eats a spoonful himself, almost spitting it back out. The disgusted look on his face is almost worth listening to the words behind it.

Tick.

Another minute down.

How many more do I have left?

“C’mon Salem. You have to eat something!” Jared protests, throwing the jello-o’s spoon back onto the tray. “You like mashed potatoes,” he stated, picking up a fork-load and zooming it towards my face. I’m not a baby and the potato fork is most definitely not a plane. Jared groans, finally giving up. “What do you want me to do?” he asks, exasperated and frustrated with the lack of information we were both given.

“Sorry?” It comes out harsh and it bites at me.

I hate the way I act, but I can’t stop. I put on this apathetic mask and now I can’t take it off. It was accidentally super-glued to my face and I might as well play along.

Plus, is it horrifically abnormal for a person who’s about to die to be perturbed by the fact that they are going to die?

Everybody dies.

My own horrible words echo throughout my skull again and again, haunting me. How could I?

Jared sighs, pulling me out of my painful thoughts. “Whatever,” there’s a bitter edge to his voice, making the simple word sharp and cutting. I try to ignore it in vain. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

For a second there is a rising in my stomach and a tickling in my throat. Does that mean he’s finally going to spare himself and leave me be? I’m not quite sure if it’s hope that filled me or fear. I decide to watch him carefully as he approaches me, either way.

I close my eyes as he sits next to me silently on the small, uncomfortable bed. He must have noticed my mixed reaction because he lets out a breathy laugh that almost has a sarcastic air about it. “I’m not going anywhere, Salem.”

I actually smile, then, and I let him wrap an arm around me protectively. I hear him flick on the TV to some dull news station, but it doesn’t matter. My eyes are stuck on him.

How can he act so strong?

How is it possible for him to walk through all the destruction and ruin that is me and still come out with an optimistic glow in his eyes?

I envy him for a moment.

I wish I could have that strength.

SpongeBob’s eerie laugh fills the bare room, making me laugh along. It’s infectious no matter how annoying I find the animated sponge. I glance away from Jared for a minute, taking in everything else and shaking my head, still giggling a little.

No. I don’t envy Jared.

Not at all.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

I spent my last few hours not caring about which second would be the last.