Page 81 of Alexander: Alexander's Story

I don’t have my phone or laptop. No one has even turned on the TV in my room. It’s a prison, and I’m done.

When my feet touch the ground, I question my ability to do this, but mustering all my strength, and with a bracing hand holding on to the bed, I inch towards the hospital door.

One foot in front of the other.

With more clarity than I’ve had in the last…god, I don’t even know how long I’ve been here, I stare down at the pj’s Brit brought me and wonder what day it is. The pattern seems almost festive, and a turning in my gut has me wondering:Is it almost Christmas?Have I lost nearly a month of my life in this-thisin-between?

With more assuredness, and likely adrenaline, coursing through me, I grab hold of the hospital door and pull it open to Alex and Blanks staring at me, shock written all over their faces.

“What are you doing here?” I ask Blanks, confusion likely written all over mine. I don’t want him here. To see me like this. Again, I don’t want anyone here. My anger simmers, just barely restrained.

“You shouldn’t be up,” Alex scolds me, taking my hand to keep me steady.

“I don’t want to be here anymore.” I try to say it calmly, but I don’t think it sounds like it. Blanks just keeps staring at me, in shock, I think.

I try to get Alex to drop my hand, but he won’t.

“I just want to go home.” I look away from them both when the tears begin welling in my eyes. When I do finally look up, I hate the expressions on their faces. I hate it more than anything I’ve ever seen before. There’s no lust and wonder. There’s only pity and obligation. There’s disgust and anger, or maybe that’s me projecting.

“If you won’t take me home, then leave.” My voice is hard and urgent. But neither of them so much as twitch. “I said LEAVE!” Icry out, mad and hurting.Why am I hurting? Why am I so mad?The rage seems to find me out of nowhere.Desperately, I want to throw something and watch it break. I don’t want to be the broken thing anymore. I don’t want to bethisanymore.

In the hallway, I crumple to the ground.

A warm hand comes down around my arm, lifting me, and I want to push it away and scream, but all my energy has been expended. I don’t even bother opening my eyes. The warm hand becomes an arm around my back, then another arm under my legs, and all I can do is lean into their hold as they carry me back to the bed while I sob against their chest.

When soft lips press against my forehead, I open my eyes, and all my crying stops when I realize it’s Blanks and not Alex. He holds my attention, looking at me like he’s broken, too.

I want to tell him I’m the only thing broken here, but he doesn’t get the memo. A single tear runs down his cheek and I push him away to no effect. He doesn’t budge. He stays in my face, bent over, staring at me.

“What are you doing?” I lean back into the pillow, trying to put as much space between us. “Alex!” I call out, but there’s no answer.

“He said you can’t remember. Is that true?” A burning in my chest ignites at the question that feels more like an accusation.

“Remember what?!” I yell in exasperation. “Why won’t anyone just tell me what I forgot?” The sobs overtake me, turning into desperate attempts to inhale, then a choking fit.

Blanks stays, though, still invading my personal space.

“Do you want me to leave?” he whispers, then takes one of my hands, sliding it against his. The problem is, I don’t want him to leave, but he would stay out of pity, and I never wanted that.

“Yes! God, just leave, please!” I scream at him, and he stands up instantly, drawing away from me. I hiccup, then cough over the angry cries I can’t keep down any longer.

Blanks finally backs away from me when Alex and a nurse, whose name I can’t remember, enter. I should be able to remember her name, right? It’s been at least two weeks, and she’s been with me every day. But I can’t recall it. Why can’t I remember her name?

“A-Alex,” I stutter on a cry, “what happened to me?” The nurse looks at him, then back at me.

“Just like last time,” she reminds him. Like last time?Oh god.How long has this been going on?

“We were in a car accident, Emma.”I know! What the fuck?They’re treating me like I’m insane or an imbecile.

“I know!” I yell at him, but he comes closer, grabbing both my hands in his own.

“You do?” he asks.

“Yes! You told me that, but I can’t remember when or how long ago it was. And every time I try to think backward, my mind feels like mush.” I sniffle, “And every time I think about now, or the future, I-I get so angry, and I don’t know why.”

“We should take her home,” Blanks says, standing back behind the nurse now. My crying quiets at his voice.

He stares at me intently, seeing something that Alex can’t. I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Please,” I whisper to Blanks.