Prescription for Miss Walker

I lay there, numb, cold and forgotten, as the soft clanging of metal soared through the studio. Footsteps echoed, breath was still... but they were all alone.

If I didn't hurt, then I'd choose not to. I'd dismiss the swell of the happening. It was never supposed to be like this.

"...tight... was surprising..."

Ben was talking loud, but I didn't truly hear a word he said. He could have said a lot, could have spoken with regret -- I'd have no way of knowing.

But I just continued to lie there.

Could I blink? No. I saw the world all too brightly. All shapes and sizes, all creatures great and small.

Here I lay, surrounded in the shattered remains of my apartment. Bloodied and torn to the core. I was damaged so far beyond repair that I could never claw myself out again.

I may not be dead, but I sure as hell felt like a corpse.

And I'd much rather be one.

I tried getting up, but everywhere hurt. Every limb, every muscle ripped apart, from the very core of me.

Life was cold. Dead; inside and out.

"I'd love to stay and chat but I know you don't come back for seconds these days... see you, Spitfire."

The thump of the door made me flinch, into the broken pieces of glass. Shards inflicted cuts upon my skin, no matter how I lay. I didn't bring myself to think much of it, except that there were a few that looked sharp enough.

Sitting up with my back to the couch, I winced from the shock of pain that teetered up my spine. Sitting was hard, more so than it ever fucking should be.

I picked up a sleet that was already streaked red. I didn't know if that was from my face or -- never mind, I didn't care.

I held it to my wrist, dismissing the fall of tears that plopped on my exposed flesh. They stung my open wounds and I grieved their agony, knowing I could never feel pain the way most people did ever again. Now, my levels had arisen, soared too high that I'd never wish to be at such a height once more.

I could end it all... here, now. I wouldn't have to muster a monstrous scream if I found the strength the full my lungs.

Not giving myself enough time to think better of it, I moved swiftly. Then, all of a sudden, red ribbons of life were wrapping themselves around my battered and broken skin, seething agony.

But I didn't want to live on knowing what happened to me, even if it was for only a few more weeks. This body, this soul of mine was tarnished; there's no coming back from that.

We as humans claim that the soul acts as our moral compass, the reason we fight to see another day, or save damsels in distresses. It obliterates all evil thought and cleanses the mind. It is omnipresent, it is beautiful to the core, it is the one thing that drives us when all else fails.

Sometimes, I fail to see humanity. I fail to see empathy and love and kindness. They feel somewhat foreign to me a lot if, ever, presented. And because of that, I know I lack what would be deemed as human qualities. I'm vain, I don't have compassion, and I really couldn't care less about people who weren't me.

If I can't show kindness and a smudge of humanity toward other people... then what could I honestly expect from them, too?

Of course, dismissal and rejection hurts, even with a passing stranger -- but it's different when it comes to somebody you know. We have high expectations of those around who choose to surround us, especially the ones we treasure most. They blind us.

The illusions keep us wanting more, vying for attention we don't even need. All we crave is an interaction, a sign to say we're appreciated. It's not magic, but it's a high that at most times goes without thanks.

And maybe, today is a lesson learned.

I am not humanity and I should not make excuses for their mistakes, but I should not praise my own. I'm only made of skin and bone, and soon I'm just going to be dust in the wind -- but the treatment of humanity towards me today has shown me just how callous and disgusting we can be.

We spread our legs for faithful spouses, gamble our lives away and drink till we can't see no more... In the end, I am just a number among them all. We all sin; we are sin. But as a person coming to the end of her tale, I can see why we get lost in our roles.

So, after a few more minutes of crying, looking back and forth between the shard and my once-pale throbbing wrist, I realized something.

I knew something I didn't before.

I reached for my mobile, ignoring the hiss of my wounds. Once it was in my hands, there was a number I wanted to call above all.

But once it directed me to voicemail, I knew explaining myself to him would be straight out of the question. He must have the misconception that I'd stood him up and may never speak to me casually again. Yet, for some reason... I think I was okay with that.

It's not right to hate someone when you couldn't possibly know the full story, but sometimes ignorance really is bliss. This was one those times.

So, instead, I dialed 911 and was immediately put through to a warm welcome.

"Lincoln Hospital. What is your emergency?"

Pulling my tie out through the loops, I wrapped it around my wrist as I balanced the phone between my cheek and my shoulder.

"I was attacked in my apartment, I'm bleeding badly." How strange was it that I was being so calm about all of this? For someone who felt like passing out with every droning damn second, I was doing well.

Informing the services of my address and being reassured that the ambulance would take a lengthy twenty minutes or so, they asked nicely not move as I could only damage myself further.

Not a problem, I thought. My ass was aching and sitting on it wasn't helping. I couldn't wait until the pain stopped.

But it never did. The pain doesn't quit until the blood stops flowing... it will never stop.

Sometimes hope and faith isn't enough to get you through. My faith is blind, as well as inexistent and I have no hope left in me. All that I was, all that I tried to be, was taken from me in a singular moment.

Those moments count, so we try to make sure they matter. Because nothing is worse than spending time that was other-wise wasted.

Being careful and calculating all my life until then didn't seem like it amounted to nothing. It meant knowing all trials and tribulations that may lie ahead, questions I might never get the answer to... none of it seemed like time wasted. Each day I spent alive, breathing and dreading, it all had a deeper meaning. It was something great.

By the time the ambulance arrived, they bustled in without a proper invitation and hauled me up onto a gurney. One of the paramedics tended to my injuries, while the other asked if I wanted to call anyone.

I looked at him, brainstorming just how I knew him. He was certainly recognizable. A face as beautiful as his I would never forget.

He noticed, flashing me a cute smile that made his face break out in dimples.

"The first time we meet outside of collecting mail, you're a patient."

I chuckled. Cute mail guy. I remember.

He made me lie back and took some routine check-ups as his partner closed the doors and hopped back in front to drive us towards our destination.

Injecting me with morphine, it quickly entered my system and I became very light-headed. I didn't know if I was going to doze off, and if it would be wise, but still, I found myself closing my eyes.

Finally, the world ceased to turn. If only, for a moment.