37—SCARS
I heard the monitors beeping, steadily breaking through the silence. Lana lay in bed, staring at the television with a faraway look in her eyes.
I stood outside her room. The only thing that stopped me from walking into her room was her parents. They arrived promptly at 10 in the morning and had been with Lana ever since. They were going on two hours. Instead of loving and fretting over their daughter with concern, they said nothing. Disgust and disappointment was written all over them. Her mom clutched her purse and touched the pearls around her neck. Her dad wasn’t much better. His lips were in a thin line, eyes hardened as he looked at Lana as if she was the weakest person he’d even seen.
I peeked into the room and as I did, my foot tapped impatiently. They flanked her bed, both sitting down and both staring at the television across from them. They blinked every few seconds like robots that were trained to act human-like.
The television cut to a commercial. Lana’s mom cleared her throat. Her hand went to the pearls.
“Well… was it worth it?” her mom asked her.
Lana turned her head, blinked, and said in a very slow, but sure voice, “Every single inch.”
“Is this a joke to you?”
“Absolutely not,” Lana said. “I can think of funnier, less painful ways to crack a joke.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“It’s a joke to her, Michael!” her mom ranted. She breathed through her nose and stood up. “All of this is a joke to her. She doesn’t care about how this will look for the family. I shouldn’t be surprised. If she doesn’t care about her own life, why would she care for ours?”
“Mom—”
“I can’t do this.” She grabbed her purse. Before she walked out the door she looked back at her husband, not her only child. “I’ll be in the waiting room.”
She fixed the strap of her purse and ran a hand down her hair, like she was getting ready for a show. If you really thought about it, she was. The minute she stepped outside of this room, she was live. She had the main role of being Lana’s loving mom. It took a lot of work for her to get into character.
The door slammed behind her. I flattened myself against the wall but there was no need, Lana’s mom never once looked my way. She walked ahead, head held high, her heels echoing in the hallway.
I looked back in the room.
Lana was staring at the television. She appeared unaffected by her mom, but I noticed the slight tremor in her hands.
Her dad didn’t get up from his chair. He was close enough to her that his knees pressed against her bed.
“Your doctor said that you should be out of here in a few days,” her dad said.
Lana just nodded.
“You’ll just have to see a therapist a few times a week, but everything can go back to normal. And when I mean normal, I mean you back home… where you should be.”
Lana glanced at her dad. “What?”
“You need to be at home, where your mom and I can watch you and make sure that this never happens again.”
She blinked, and when her eyes focused on her dad, there was nothing but revulsion in her gaze. I knew it was the first time Lana was openly rejecting her dad.
I didn’t know why she chose that moment to be the time. Maybe last night’s attempt had not only put her to the brink of death, but it had also made her fears disappear.
“F*ck you,” she whispered coldly.
His head tilted to the side, as if he had heard her wrong. “What did you say?”
“I said, f*ck you. I did what I did because of you.” She looked down at her bed. “Now get out.”
“Your mother and I are trying to help.”
“Mom left the room a few minutes ago because she couldn’t look at me. She doesn’t want to help, and neither do you. Get out.”
Her dad didn’t appear to be in any rush. His cheeks were flushed, undoubtedly from anger and embarrassment. He stared at his daughter, his eyes filled with unearned hate. His daughter stared back at him, her eyes blank and unflinching.
“I can press this button,” Lana said, “and a nurse will be here within minutes.”
Her dad stood up.
I hurried away from her room. A few seconds later I heard the door creak open. Footsteps sounded. Her dad didn’t scurry away like her mom did. He waited for a few moments, leaning against the wall, staring down at the waxed floor thoughtfully before he pulled out his phone.
“Tim, how are you? It’s Michael. Listen,” her dad cleared his throat and started to walk down the hall, “I need a favor from you…”
I wanted to follow behind him and listen to every single word. The nurse had just stepped into Lana’s room. She would take her blood pressure, check her temperature, and ask if Lana needed anything. I’d be back in plenty of time to slip into Lana’s room and finally be able to talk with her, but I stayed where I was and watched her dad walk further away, until he turned the corner and disappeared.
Something was up his sleeve. I didn’t know what, but I knew it had to involve Lana. I knew that Lana’s parents were desperate to hide her suicide attempt as quickly as possible.
The nurse finally left the room. I walked in after her and softly closed the door behind me. Lana kept her eyes glued to the television. It was a re-run of an old sitcom, complete with a laugh track, houses that never got dirty and a household that hugged every chance they got.
“I wish my problems could be solved in thirty minutes or less,” Lana said quietly.
“Me too,” I sighed and curled up at the edge of her bed, acting like this wasn’t a hospital room that smelled like disinfectant, but her room back in her apartment that smelled like lilacs. I watched the show for a few seconds before I looked over at Lana. “How are you?”
“If I told you I was okay, or fine, would you believe me?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll tell you the truth.” She swallowed. “I feel terrible.”
I looked Lana over. Her face, that normally looked so smooth and clean, was pale, almost translucent, with a sheen of sweat around her forehead and upper lip. Her lips were chapped. She had the prettiest hair. Pin-straight and silky, like a child’s. It ran down the length of her back, stopping at her waist. The ends were always neatly trimmed. But today her hair was messy, pulled back into a lopsided ponytail. The worst part was her wrists. They were heavily bandaged, lying on the bed like dead weights.
“I think the pain is stronger now,” she said gravely.
I stood up, thinking that she needed a nurse or doctor to come into the room and help her. “What?”
She held up her bandaged wrists, staring at them with a mixture of resentment and sadness. “My pain. It’s stronger. I think the pain has been in my body for too long. I could keep cutting away at my skin, but it will never matter.” She stared me straight in the eye. “The pain’s never gonna leave.”
I slowly sat back down.
What could I say to that?
I tried to think of some inspirational quote. Something, anything that would give her hope. I had nothing.
We both knew that.
Her hand dropped heavily onto the bed.
“For a second though, it was bliss,” she confessed. “I know that’s f*cked up to say. It’s the truth, though. I thought for a second that all my problems were going away. But for each drop of blood I lost, gallons of pain were waiting to fill me back up.”
“I wish I knew what to say,” I said sadly. “But nothing I say will ever make it right.”
“I’m not asking for you to make it right. No one can.”
“So what happens from here?” I asked.
“I don’t know. My doctor keeps saying that I’m leaving in a few days so my parents can help me ‘recover’.”
I flinched.
She smirked. “Ironic, right?”
“You’re not going home with them, are you?”
“No,” Lana said firmly.
I opened my mouth to voice my opinion.
“Can I just have a moment alone, please?” Lana said.
“Sure.” I stood up and said good-bye even though it was the last thing I wanted to do. The door shut behind me. I sagged against it, my hands on my knees, taking deep breaths.
I left moments later. My legs were shaking and it felt like I was going to collapse at any moment. I quickened my pace. The elevator was in sight, but it felt like I was in a fun house. It became further and further away until it felt like I was never going to reach it.
I started to run, but the hallway became narrow and longer, stretching for miles. Nurses and visiting family members were all around. I could hear their hushed voices. I’m sure every single one of them had their own problems to deal with, but I would’ve done anything at that moment to trade lives with them.
I realized then that seeing Lana being raped created a small crack in my sanity. Each event after that made the crack spread. A network of veins appeared, making me fragile. I was finally starting to shatter. Everything was catching up to me and I broke into millions of pieces.
I crumbled to the ground and screamed, trying to erase Lana’s words.
“The pain’s never gonna leave.”
Her voice kept getting stronger and the world slowly faded to black.
When I woke up, I was at Fairfax.