Recovery | Teen Ink

Recovery

August 17, 2015
By Anonymous

    The first thing she felt, was that something rough was rubbing her hand. Already known what that would be, she turned her head and, with joy instead of surprise, saw a white Samoyed licking her hand.

 

“Morning, Petty.” Greeting Petty with a warm morning smile, she raised her hand to caress its head.

 

Petty closed its eyes to enjoy the minute.

 

It was like merely days ago. She could still recall those moments when Petty was lying on her legs and asked for cuddles with its entreating expressions. She could also retain the joy she gained by holding Petty up into the air or rolling with it on the grass. She would not forget the nights she insisted that Petty should sleep with her on her tiny bed as well.

 

But now it was almost two years old, and she had been finding it more and more challenging to raise it again, not only because it had gained weight through the years, but also because she had been increasingly weak.

 

The bed, which she was lying on, belonged to a hospital on the outskirt of a city.

 

She was delighted that Petty was allowed to see her occasionally, and this comforted her much more than those visits of affable doctors and nurses did.

 

“Petty, that sweatshirt.” She pointed at the basket of fresh clothes sitting by the door.

 

Petty hopped back and dug its head into the pile of shirts and pants. It jogged all the way back joyfully, with the piece of clothing on its head.

 

She laid the sweatshirt beside the flowers on the bedside table. She liked that kind of refreshing smell.

 

She then attempted to sit up, but she found herself facing trouble. Sensing her difficulty, Petty gave out a woof that was quiet but still audible to the nurse who was taking care of her. The nurse, who had been chatting with a doctor, rushed into the ward.

 

It took a minute or two for her to sit up, even with the assistance. She leaned against a pillow that the nurse put behind her.

 

After the nurse had made sure everything was right and left the room, she asked Perry to fetch the television remote control.

 

She did not like this place, but she had to stay here. She did not know what had happened to her body, but she could tell that it was rather severe due to doctors’ obscure answers to her questions and her mother’s usual vestige of tears.

 

She can feel herself weakened day by day as well, as she noticed that her limbs were gradually refusing to respond to her mind. She by no means liked this. She had never been in favor of lying in bed, remaining idle, or being forced to eat the “balanced” diet when she was not starving at all. She knew that she could not live on her own, and she hated that.

 

For her, days in the hospital were different when Petty was present. She felt more satisfied when she was watching television with Petty by her side. The lunch tasted better when she heard Petty cracking its food. The nap in the afternoon turned out to be more relaxing when she knew that Petty was at her companion.

 

After having finished the last bit of that strange mixture which the nurse called “the porridge with magic” for dinner, she was allowed to wander around with her dog for a while.

 

It was somewhat late. The entire building was illuminated by an insufficient number of lights.

 

They walked down the hall, slowly but steadily. She kept one of her hands on the wall to prevent herself from losing balance, while the other hand was holding the handle that was chained to Petty.

 

Petty was remarkably well-behaved. It walked quietly, mainly focusing on the path ahead, while occasionally it would turn around to make sure that she did not need any aid. She liked its understanding attitude, its well-mannered behaviors, and its pure eyes that were shining loyalty.

 

She managed to settle herself down the bench when they reached the end of the hallway. Petty jumped readily on to the bench and sat by her side. Exhausted, she closed her eyes to rest for a few moments.

 

She could feel that Perry laid its head on her legs. She favored that kind of fluffiness. Would time possibly stop at this moment so that I can feel Petty in this way, forever? She thought.

 

No, it would never. Said a voice.

 

Astonished, she opened her eyes and saw a dark figure standing in front of her. Petty was alarmed, and she fondled its head to calm it down.

 

She could not tell where her eyes were as they were hidden by the darkness, but she could tell that he was staring at her.

 

Of course time would not stop. However…

 

The dark figure paused.

 

However? What do you mean?

 

Silence. The dark figure neither moved nor responded.

 

She wanted to say something, but was surprised to see that the dark figure has blurred into the black background.

 

No, not only the strange figure. Everything else was also darkening. She tried to reach out for Petty, but she failed as it also faded into the background.

 

All of a sudden she felt as if someone had robbed her of the last bit of energy. Her eyelids were so heavy that she, without realizing, fell into dormancy.

 

There was a mixed smell of her flowers and hospital, along with the beep sounds that came from a heartless machine.

 

She was back in her ward again, but this time, not lying in bed, but standing among a group of people. Among them she identified her parents and the nurse, who, to her surprise, appeared to be much older than they were in her memory.

 

The calendar on the wall suggested that she had been visiting a future that was ten years distant from her present.

 

And there was a girl lying on the bed. She was motionless, but the beeps indicated that she was still alive.

 

Everyone was whispering to one other.

 

Vegetable, Petty, old, dead.

 

Those were the words she caught.

 

Unable to relate vegetable to anything other than nutrition, she found it hard to link the four word together.

 

However, though she did not want to admit, she could figure out one thing.

 

Petty was old and dead.

 

Petty, old, dead.

 

Petty, dead.

 

Dead.

 

Why?

 

Why, Petty?

 

Why did you leave before I do?

 

Why would you leave me lying here alone?

 

Not fair.

 

That's not fair.

 

Why some individuals have to suffer years while those who entertains others happen to be short lived?

 

Not fair.

 

I don't want to suffer.

 

I don't want to see people around me suffer.

 

And most importantly, I want to see Petty alive.

 

Why can’t I donate my time to Petty?


Yes, you can. She heard a sound.

 

Then she found herself still sitting on the bench, with Petty beside her, licking her hand.

 

She looked around, but the figure was nowhere to be seen.

 

Petty laid its head on her legs.

 

I’m going to give you my time. She thought.

 

Petty, lying on the bench with comfort, closed its eyes.

 

She petted its head.

 

She was prepared that it might be the last time she would meet Petty.

 

But she was not aware that Petty had already made a deal with the stranger when she was travelling in her dream, a deal where Petty would waive its lively soul so that she would receive a healthy and fancy life.


The author's comments:

The first spark of inspiration actually came from an article that is rather informative on the fact that nowadays pets are allowed in many hospitals. I really wish if I can put those energetic and cute creatures like dogs into a writing to demonstrate its probable advantage. Another portion of the story was kind of dark, as I wanted to illustrate an isolated young girl who was desperate about lives. I really want to raise that kind of awareness.


(P.S. My first time to publish a story, and there are some rough edges that I haven't figured out ways to deal with them. Sorry if that is not very fluent. Thanks for reading anyway!)


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