Okay, then.
Days pass in the same manner. Cole escorts me in silence. I nurse Alyssa, fold linens, and keep a low profile. Alyssa loves the pillow I gave her, so she’s been a little more receptive of my presence, but she still only gives me one-word answers when I ask her how she’s doing. Every night, Cole leaves me food to eat, but neither of us speaks. After our last exchange, I lost a lot of respect for him. It makes me uncomfortable so I don’t ask him about the papers he had or if I’ll ever be free from surveillance.
I know he can’t enjoy watching me do nothing every night.
I lie on my mattress and run my hands through my long hair. The loneliness is driving me crazy, so I start talking to Zeus, which, to tell the truth, is kind of nice. He at least pretends to care, or seems to anyway.
Thursday. The day means nothing as usual. The head nurse, whose name I finally found out is Bertha, rushes around with the dark-haired nurse. The eighth floor seems particularly swamped today, so there’s no time for questions. Left to my own devices, I’m determined to develop a deeper relationship with Alyssa.
Our interactions have been limited to her basic needs for the most part. I change her linens, give her baths, and attempt conversation with her while getting nowhere. She’s like an armored battleship ready for war. I tiptoe around to keep from disturbing her whenever possible. However, her situation still pricks me. She must feel so alone and deserted.
How can I get her to let me in, to be her friend?
This time I don’t knock. I pull open the curtain, go to the window, and open the blinds.
“What’re you doing? I’m tired and want to be alone,” she snaps. It’s the longest string of words she’s put together since I started taking care of her and I don’t want the opportunity to pass. I drag the chair across the room and next to her bed. “I know what it feels like to be alone and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. I’ve been trying to help you. Can’t you see I want to be your friend?” I plead from my heart.
“Why? What’s the point?” The bitterness in her voice cracks with weakness, so I gingerly reach out and wrap my hand around hers. It’s cold and lifeless.
“Because I need a friend.” I squeeze her hand slightly, praying for an intervention.
Tears flow from her eyes as she leans her head back into the pillow.
“I don’t want to be this way.” Tears slip down her face. “I don’t want to die. I don’t want to be alone. I… just hate it here. I hate everything.”
Tears pool on the rims of my eyes as I focus on her.
“I’ll stay with you. I won’t go anywhere. I promise.”
“I think I’ve been here five years. Maybe longer? Sutton’s the closest thing I have to family.” She clenches and unclenches her fists.
She sits up and wraps her thin arms around me. She starts to shake as she sobs, so I hold her. I wish there was more I could do for her—anything. I want to make her remaining days as wonderful as possible, but how does a child enjoy her time when she knows Death parked himself just around the corner?
“What can I do?” I ask.
“Don’t let me die.”
Her words tear my insides to shreds. A hopeless feeling overcomes me and I want to scream at the top of my lungs “Take me! Take me instead!” I would, without a doubt, trade places with her if I could. I know it’s impossible, and the loss of that control throws me into a frenzy. There’s no way she deserves to be here. I don’t even know where to go or who to blame, but there has to be someone.
“I’ll be right back.”
I run down the hallway and into the linen closet. I ball my fists and pound on the door. I grab the sheets and chuck them over the laundry bins and all the way to the trash cans on the other side. Burying my face into a blanket, I let out a scream that’s been balled up in my chest for way too long. Towels fall off the shelf. I pick one up and throw it, then another and another until they form a disheveled pile. I push the bins out of my way and bolt to the supply closet.
I run my arm down the line of supplies, sending them to the floor. I pick up an IV pole and swing at the wall. I pound harder and harder until it breaks in half, sending one part into the mirror, shattering the glass into tiny fragments on the tile. I dig my nails into my palms.
“Why!” I scream. “Why her?”
“Stop.” Sutton’s calm voice breaks my tantrum.
Slowly sinking to the floor, I rest my head against the wall behind me and look around at the mess I created.
“I’m sorry.” I pull the collar of my shirt up over my face, sniffling and wiping my tears away. “I’ll clean it up.” My arms throb and my muscles twitch from adrenaline. I push myself up, ashamed for losing all self-control, and start picking up gauze and tape.
“Stop,” he says again. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
I watch as he makes his way toward me. My lip starts to tremble and I shake my head frantically. “It’s not fair. She’s so young.”