My chest is rapidly moving up and down. My stomach feels like its being pumped. And I'm being told to breathe. My eyes are wide open, but blurryness covers my sight. I can't bring myself to take a breath. I can feel the wetness of the cloth that covers my body. The wetness of my face, though I can't tell if it's from tears or the water I was under.
Then, in a swift movement, I feel myself being hoisted. I feel someone gripping my hand and another hand covering my head. They're different hands, I can tell. One's cold, the other's warm.
"Hang in there, babygirl." I hear a sweet voice talk, a males. "You're going to make it, I'll make sure of it." That's the opposite of what I want.
"What happened?" Is the first question that is asked once we get into an ambulance, obviously. "I-I don't know! I just needed to use the restroom. I couldn't open the door, it was locked. I got the key, and opened it. I didn't think anything of it. The door is stupid. But once I saw her-" The person talking is cut off by the sobs that leave his body.
"Has she ever had any previous attempts from your old neighborhood? Any previous counseling or therepy?" Is the next question asked. My hand is squeezed. "Yes, she was in counseling for cutting."
"Okay thank you, sir. I'll make sure she gets through this alive." Everything goes black, because I can't take it anymore. Because I don't want to hold on anymore. Because I'm not breathing anymore.
I wake up in a hospital room. The smell of the iodoform disinfectant chemical that's used to clean, is strong. I don't like it. It's too strong. Why am I complaining? I use stronger perfume.
I open my eyes, hoping that it was just a dream. That I didn't make it, and am just being tested. Tested for heaven. Is that what happens after you die? Don't you get tested to find out if you go to heaven or hell? I wouldn't know. Because I'm not dead.
It's night and the light on above my head blinds me. What a great way to wake up. My throat feels dry, and my wrists ache. It feels like I've been drugged(I've been drugged before). They dosed me with so much medicine.
The door rattles, and I sit straight up. Once the door opens, a gasp is heard. "You're awake! It's a miracle." I feel like there was a sarcastic tone to that comment of me sitting up sheilding my eyes from the lights. The nurse caring for me, runs to my side.
He uses the phone that's right beside my bed. "Doctor, she's up," he says before hanging up. "You made it, babygirl. You're going to be fine." I look at him, saying nothing. I motion to my neck. He takes the hint, and runs out before running back in with a plastic cup of water.
I gulp it. I take a deep breath, laying back down, burping. I close my eyes once again.
The night was long, but fulfilling. I got to know my nurse more. He tells me I'll be discharged in weeks time because of my dug up past I tried so hard to bury. I can't believe all the secrets I've tried to hide, became clear within seconds time. He didn't judge me. In fact, he hugged me.
You see, my father's gay, and my mom left him after he came out. At first, she was so angry. She would drive by, spewing hate and throwing rocks. Tis the reason why we moved. But now, she's Ms. Supporting. My dad went through depression, but so did I.
I was bullied to the point where I had to have a personal bodyguard. To the point where I had to be homeschooled. To the point where the doctor's number was on speed dial. I was broken. I felt like no-one would fix that.
I was just a freshman, didn't know any better. So naive and heartbroken.
But that nurse did more than watch and take care of me when I was asleep. He helped me right after. He would visit me at home and talk to me. He became someone I relied on. A friend. Though it was inappropriate because of our age difference. My dad had thrown him out of our apartment because he caught us hugging.
But in the end, it all worked out. The nurse came out as gay when my father had confronted him for going after me. How humiliated and shame was brought to his career after meeting me. How he would be judged so harshly for going after little girls.
"I'm gay!" I heard him yell.
My father and him ended up together. The nurse being 29, and my father being 31. And I, trusting the nurse so solemnly. The nurse, my father now, is and always will be a huge part of my life. Even if he wasn't certified in counseling or whatever, he was there. More than anyone else. Giving me his all and respecting me.
Thank you, mister, for saving me.