Abel
Rose is still in with Dr. Brown. I keep glancing toward the door because I’m fidgety and I don’t know why. I have no idea what the fuck is up with me, but I can’t sit still. Maybe it’s because she told me was suicidal and I figure if I have my eye on her or if she’s with Dr. Brown, she’s okay.
I reason that she’s my only friend in this zombie-land but I’m starting to become addicted to her in a way I never would’ve thought possible in a mental institution.
Calmate, mijo . Though I’m standing alone, I wave my hand as if to tell mami to get away from me. To an onlooker, I’d appear to be waving away some sort of invisible fly, but I don’t give a shit.
I’ve never cared about someone as much as I care about her. Not even mami . I should be ashamed of that. After the things she’d done to me, I couldn’t bring myself to care as much about her as I should’ve.
I didn’t even cry when she died, choosing instead to cover my body in the symbols cherished by her faith. I don’t know if I did it for her approval, even in death, or if I placed stock in her God saving me and this was my show of devotion.
Either way, none of those things happened and I ended up hating her and God.
Maybe my fucking heart has been empty all along and because of it, it’s now Rose’s for the taking. The entire damn thing.
Pues, I finally found a bit of luck in an abysmal situation. Typically, an unlucky bastard, I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. And I have a feeling that shit’s going to make a fucking racket when it does.
Where I’m seated, I can see Rose head down the hall toward where I am in the rec room, her long blonde hair hanging down her back as she walks. She moves slowly like she’s got all the time in the world and she doesn’t see me yet so I look at her the way I rarely ever can because I don’t want to intimidate her. She’s comfortable staring and asking questions and I don’t want to fuck that up just because I’m selfish. Sure, we’ve begun needing each other in this weird way that gives us some fucked up version of hope. Or happiness. But she needs me more.
I love the way her arms swing in time with her steps. The movement makes her look happy and I know it’s fucking strange to think but I just want her to be happy. Every day. Even if just for a moment.
If I can make her happy, maybe she’ll change.
And maybe I won’t have to leave her behind one day.
I’m in my head so fucking deep that when a man accidentally bumps into her as he makes his way around her toward the rec room, I’m not a hundred percent focused on her. A split second is all it takes.
A split fucking second and I can see the change in her.
I am witnessing what everyone is afraid of as her face contorts in anger. She reaches for the back of the man’s top and I’m out of my chair, rushing toward the now scrapping pair. As I get closer, I see he’s on his stomach and she’s pushing his face into the ground. The blood is already leaking from his nose when I feel someone push me aside.
“Rose!”
At the sound of my shout, she looks up, right at me. It’s like I snapped her out of a fucking trance. She almost smiles.
I push the nurse aside and run faster, pulling her into my arms. I’m finally holding her, I think as I feel her tremble. “It’s okay.” I press my cheek into her hair before I’m yanked away.
The nurses grab her roughly and I yank one of them off by their shirt and push him into the wall. The female nurse that’s still holding Rose’s arm looks at me with wide eyes. Rose breaks away and runs toward me. I’ve just got her hand in mine when I feel a force tackle me to the ground. The nurse I’d pushed into the wall is sitting on top of me and I can hear Rose’s screams. More nurses have made their way to us.
“It’s okay,” I yell as I struggle against him, gritting my teeth as he twists my arm so I can’t move. “Don’t worry about me, Rose.”
Her screams start losing force and I turn my head in time to see that they’ve stuck her with the poison she hates. She fights against it, hiccuping over her anxiety, tears sliding down the side of her face as her eyes are on the ceiling. I’m silent, watching her through her pain and it makes me want to punch my fist through this motherfucker’s chest.
She’s still hiccuping and trying to catch her breath when she turns her face to the side and her blue eyes lock onto my brown ones.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, wishing that saying it made it so. “It’s okay.”
She nods, her blinks becoming slower and slower.
And I feel the prick of a needle on the inside of my elbow. “It’s okay,” I keep saying, even as it gets harder to speak.
It’s not okay, , I think to myself as the world goes black.