Status: Complete.
She and Her Delusions
One of One
They try to tell me that he's real, that this person who seems to always be here, day in and day out, is actually him. They don't know how much I want to believe it. But I can't, I don't. Those eyes aren't his, that voice isn't his.
It's not him, it's not him, it's not him.
I open my eyes to blank white walls as I listen to the doctors talk to someone outside the door. The glass blurs their faces but it doesn't matter because I already know who it is. He's back again. It's been the same way for months now, or at least, it felt like months. Who knows how long I've been wasting away here, in this room, this prison?
She's stable, I hear them say, at least for the time being, so don't upset her, please. Then the voices stop and the door opens and he's looking at me with ocean blue eyes. He's smiling at me, and for one tiny moment, I can allow myself to believe that it is him, it really is. But then he takes a step forward and, the moment broken, I cower under the sheets.
I hear him come closer. His hand touches my arm, his skin like ice against mine.
"Rory," he says. "How are you today?"
I stare at him.
"I heard you were doing a little better. That's good." He rubs my arm gently, slowly, and his voice takes on a hint of sadness. "I.. I've missed you."
He pauses a moment, contemplating his actions. Then he slowly leans closer to me, his warm breath falling over my face, and I jump back, yanking away from him.
"No," I say loudly. "No! Get away from me!"
His eyes widen. I feel him fumble to grab me again, but I pull away, wrapping my arms tight around my body. I don't want him near me. I don't want to see him at all. I want him gone.
"Rory, please. It's me. Elliot."
"No! You're lying! Leave me alone!"
I hear him sigh, and he gets up from the bed. Without another word, he turns to the door, where nurses have already begun to appear to ask him to leave.They aren't sure when he can come back. His presence is too risky, she's had an apparent relapse, they'll have to run some more tests and then they'll contact him with the results.
He listens to their words, giving them a solemn nod once they've finished. Then he turns back to me.
"I love you," he whispers.
I say nothing, only pick at little balls of lint on the sheets, and the door closes.
It's not him, it's not him, it's not him.
I open my eyes to blank white walls as I listen to the doctors talk to someone outside the door. The glass blurs their faces but it doesn't matter because I already know who it is. He's back again. It's been the same way for months now, or at least, it felt like months. Who knows how long I've been wasting away here, in this room, this prison?
She's stable, I hear them say, at least for the time being, so don't upset her, please. Then the voices stop and the door opens and he's looking at me with ocean blue eyes. He's smiling at me, and for one tiny moment, I can allow myself to believe that it is him, it really is. But then he takes a step forward and, the moment broken, I cower under the sheets.
I hear him come closer. His hand touches my arm, his skin like ice against mine.
"Rory," he says. "How are you today?"
I stare at him.
"I heard you were doing a little better. That's good." He rubs my arm gently, slowly, and his voice takes on a hint of sadness. "I.. I've missed you."
He pauses a moment, contemplating his actions. Then he slowly leans closer to me, his warm breath falling over my face, and I jump back, yanking away from him.
"No," I say loudly. "No! Get away from me!"
His eyes widen. I feel him fumble to grab me again, but I pull away, wrapping my arms tight around my body. I don't want him near me. I don't want to see him at all. I want him gone.
"Rory, please. It's me. Elliot."
"No! You're lying! Leave me alone!"
I hear him sigh, and he gets up from the bed. Without another word, he turns to the door, where nurses have already begun to appear to ask him to leave.They aren't sure when he can come back. His presence is too risky, she's had an apparent relapse, they'll have to run some more tests and then they'll contact him with the results.
He listens to their words, giving them a solemn nod once they've finished. Then he turns back to me.
"I love you," he whispers.
I say nothing, only pick at little balls of lint on the sheets, and the door closes.
♠ ♠ ♠
So this is probably pretty rough, since I was really only writing this so that I could get some practice in. I haven't written in forever, and I didn't really research the mental disorder much, aside from a quick glance at the Wiki page, but I still like it. It's my first time writing something like this, so I hope you enjoy it.