Chemically Imbalanced

They Don't Care

I always hated the smell of hospitals.
All the chemicals.
I hate everything about the place.
The smell, the sounds measuring the lives of people with every passing beep meaning one less time their heart will beat. It's depressing.

But what I hate most of all is seeing her hooked up to the place. Multiple fluids feeding into her vains. Tubes in her nose. Monitors making me obsessive. Checking the screen every time a new beep comes up.

I wanted to rip it all from her. To disconnect her from any association with the white walls and chemical smells.

I wanted to take her home.
But I know thats not what she needs right now. Right now she needs who ever the hell is running this place to come and make her all better. Magically wave his hands and "poof" heal her.

I was to frustrated to stay put in one place and at the same time far to anxious to leave her side.
Scared to even touch her. Scared that every time the breath leaves her lungs... it won't come back.

So instead, I just sit there. 
Brooding in my thoughts and drowning in a pool of worry.

She was still asleep. She had been since passing out in class. When the EMT finally got there they said it was nothing to worry about. Her body was just tired, over worked, and stressed out.

I know it's bullshit. It's exactly like telling the medic you feel fine, your hand isn't hurting as if a train just ran over it, you can still see through your eye currently swelling up like a tennis ball. You tell them anything and everything to keep them happy.

They do the same. The tell you what you want to hear to keep you from freaking out. It doesn't fucking help by the way.

A knock onthe door steals me from my thoughts. A tall man steps through the door. His white coat and neat appearance pointed to the logical explanation of him being the doctor.
Anxiously I jump from my seat knocking over the glass of water.

He does not smile as he holds out his hand to me.

"Dr. Andrew"

He shakes my hand with minimum effort.

"Are you family?"

"Uuhm. No, actually."

I uncomfortably dig my hands into my pockets as i lower my eyes to the ground.

"I see, in that case I'll have to ask you to leave. The family has requested that no one except them are to see her."

I shake my head in disbelief.

"I'm sorry. There seems to be a problem?"

Dr. Andrew asks tilting his head and folding his arms behind his back.

"No. Uum. It's just that... I have been here with her for 3 hours. Not even counting all the other time we spend together. And her parents haven't even been here to see if she was okay. Which by the way anyone with a half working pair of eyes could see, she isn't. So, no, Dr. Andrew. I am infact not family, but it seems to me that I am the only one who cares enough to stay by her side in this damned building."

I can feel my blood start to boil as the words just fall from my mouth.
With in 3 hours none of them had visited. Within the first half hour of our arrival the second batch of flowers had been delivered. By who you might ask?
One from "Aunty Cheryl" claiming that this event has "shook the family" and they are hoping for a "speedy recovery."
And the other from her mother and father simply stating "you'll be okay, honey. We'll see you tonight."

What pisses me off most is that it's all for them. None of what they do are for her. They send her flowers with stupid notes, which they'd know she couldn't read if they were here, they throw her big stupid parties, why? So that at the end of the day when they lower her body into the empty grave they can speech about how much they have done for her to make her last days worth living? They're fake. If they
really cared for her they would be here, actually caring for her.

The doctor nods his head as if he actually understands.

"Yes. Well, what the family chooses to do is their choice. I won't ask you to leave. But you're going to explain your presence to the family."

A small smile twitches at the corner of his lips and I feel overwhelmed with gratitude. Honestly they should be the thankful ones. If they kept me from her there might be a mass murder in town.

"Let me know when the parents get here. We have urgent matters to discuss, days are counting."

All seriousness returns to his voice and I hate to admit I understood him fully.

I sat there ticking the minutes down. Its been 6 hours now. And nothing has changed. No visitors. Only nurses coming in every hour to check on her.
They have placed her dinner by the bedside and right now I'd eat anything even that. I havent eaten since last night and I'm starving now.

"Mom?"
Brea lifts her head a little to look around.
The hurt expression on her face cut like a knive when she couldn't find them anywhere.

I gently took her and and she looked at me confused. "Uum. Bree, it's just me. They... they said they would come tonight though."
I rubbed the top of her hand. Im not really good at this reassuring thing.

She laid her head back agianst the pillow. "Yeah. We'll see."

"They uh, they left you food. I fugured you might be hungry by now?"

She just shakes her head in response to me. "No, no food. It'll just come back up. You can have it. I know you probably wanted to eat it a while back."

She smirks at me as she tilts her head to me. "But the jello. You can't have that."

"I wont eat your jello, I promise.