XXX | Someone Who Cared

The darkness

is like oil
on the surface

of water.

Trying to break through
the skin

of the liquid

just makes it
stick to my skin
like shrinking PVC wrap.

When I open my mouth

to speak,
thick oil

moulds to the shape
of my mouth

and trickles down my throat.

 

I cough and cough,
gulping,
swallowing
the darkness

until

I’m full of it.

The rancid stench of rotting meat
fills my olfactory senses

and I see

through the darkness
          dripping through my lashes

an apologetic

smile.

A cold thin hand
presses hard

on my forehead.

No! I’ll fall! I’ll drown! Stop!

 

Fifi, you’re so dramatic. 

Wake up already.

 

I blink

but the darkness

doesn’t go away.
The curtainless window

remains dark.

Night.

It’s still night.

‘Tammie,’ I whisper.

They’ve removed all the restraints.
I’m free.

Covered

by the blanket
I fought
so hard to keep.

It’s nothing special.

Plain,
white,

ragged.

The nurses are lit up
by their phones,

watching me sit up slowly
from their seats by the wall.

Tammie sits on the bed beside me,
swinging her legs

in a comforting rhythm.

 

Fifi,
do you remember

the times
after school

when I followed you
taking buses

that didn’t get us home?

 

I rub the blanket
between my fingers.

Wrapping them
tight
hoping

they’ll cut off my blood

and I’ll die.

Memories once
lost

don’t return.

 

I had lots of tuition classes.
My parents

signed me up

for all those (stupid)
enrichment classes.

 

She’s grinning
like a baby.

 

I didn’t go.

I accompanied you because I thought
it’d be fun.

 

There are stains
on my blanket.

I squint at them

in the dark.

My fingers
are caked
with the same stains too.

I press one fingertip.

It stings.

Dried blood.

I’ll find the scars
later,

when there’s light.

 

I was so baffled.
You don’t pay attention in class,

and you take a different bus
after school

every time.

When I asked you

where you’re going

you never replied.

I’ve been following you
since then.

 

‘I’m sorry I don’t remember.’

I can’t tell
if she’s making this up.

Tammie’s grey eyes
are a little sad.

 

Even back then
I don’t think you realised

I cared about you.

but I did.
I was watching over you.

I just wanted

to be friends.

 

‘Where did we go?
‘Riding that bus?’
I ask.

 

It didn’t just happen once, Fifi!
You did it a lot.

Random buses each time.

You’d take them
all the way

to the end

and ask me why you’re not home yet.

 

I bury my head in my blanket.
That’s so

lame.

So I was a mess
back then.

I can feel
Tammie’s hand

on my back.

 

Yeah, you were.
Still are.

You’re an idiot.

I had to take you home.

 

The me
that Tammie was talking about,
hasn’t

become

a
better
person.

 

Your parents freaked out

the first time
it happened.

And subsequently,

they tried to pay me

for my trouble.

 

I fake a laugh

but Tammie
probably doesn’t hear

because it’s muffled
by the blanket

I’ve stuffed into my face.

The bed stops shaking.

Tammie’s
stopped swinging
her legs.

 

Your parents
love you a lot.

They’re so different

from mine.

 

She pats me on the back.
I sit up.

The blanket falls

off my face.

I’m staring
straight into her

deep
grey
eyes.

My fingers throb.
(I can feel the pain now.)

 

I’ll be with you
this time, Fifi.

 

 

 

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