One Foot In The Grave - Part Eleven

My eyes locked on the dull white ceiling, staring at the peeling, grey-edged flakes that threatened to fall onto an unsuspecting victim and leave small pieces of dandruff on their heads. The room was filled with the hum of pointless chatter – it was visiting time for parents to come and see their sad little fuck-ups. I tried to imagine what I was like to them, the lonely boy on the lonely bed, shrouded in shadows of the corner, his body limp and his arms flat against the sheets that were tightly tucked around his torso. Blank grey eyes staring at the blank grey ceiling, dark black bags hugged his eyelids and his skin was pasty and pale, his greasy hair hanging in his face. I blinked slowly, carefully moving my aching head to the side. My lips were cracked and sore, so I breathed heavily through my nose as pain ricocheted through my skull. I held my eyes closed and my nostrils pinched as I waited for my brain to stop throbbing. I watched the girl next to me, talking softly to her mother. She glanced up and offered a sympathetic smile. I rolled my head back, gazing at the ceiling again.1

The door swung open, squeaking loudly, and the buzzing chatter died for a second. Footsteps fell lightly on the floor as the talking started again, each little group trying to keep their words within the little huddle around the bedside. The footsteps got louder and louder, halting beside my bed. I didn’t need to use much brainpower to work out who it was.2

“Hey Conor” she said sweetly, settling in the chair beside my bed. I continued to stare at the ceiling. “How’s it going? We’ve missed you at group.” Pause. I tried to keep my breath quiet enough to not seem irregular, but loud enough to block out any other sound from my ears. I didn’t want her to gloat, or trot down the self-importance route. But I didn’t want sympathy, not from her. I’d rather she smacked me on the head for my brain to reverberate inside my head a bit more before she showed any ounce of understanding. Because understanding meant similarity, which was something I’m not willing to admit I have with Tegan McFarland. “Jake was asking after you, you know. I think he’s pretty concerned. He must really like you” she said thoughtfully. I blinked, not moving, not responding. 3

I felt a weight on the edge of the bed and I tipped towards it slightly, white hot pain shooting through my forehead. I flicked my eyes over to the source of movement and saw Tegan’s feet propped up on the bed, white Velcro trainers pressing down on the white cotton bed sheets. I looked forwards again, seeing only the ceiling all around me. Tegan’s voice went on and on, but it was as if she was underwater, being dragged away by a strong current. Her voice faded further and further away until all I could hear was the rippling of water inside my ears. I relaxed, and my breathing regulated, the need for deep, loud breaths suddenly no longer there. I lay in my comatose position until Tegan left, only signalled by her feet moving on the bed. 4

The water filled my head completely, swimming behind my eyes, making the ceiling a waving, blue colour that pulled and pushed. It was exactly the same as when you lay on your back on the bottom of a swimming pool and open your eyes, seeing the water move around before you. A small smile slid onto my face as I watched the water dancing before my eyes. ‘Why did they bother bringing me out of my watery grave? This is so much nicer than living...’ I thought to myself. “No need for consciousness when I have this beautiful, relaxing tranquillity all around me...I wish they’d...wish they had...I-I wish that they had left me alone to die...’ My mind wandered to my wrists, an image of them floating softly into the ocean before my eyes. And the bruises on my neck. Now what I imagined the back of my head to look like. Hadn’t they realised by now? Number four. 5

“I don’t WANT to come back” I said softly out loud, the smile sliding off my face like melted ice cream. I shuddered, closing my eyes against the hot tears that built up behind my eye lids. “I don’t want to” I whispered hoarsely, clenching the bed cover in my fist. I rolled onto my side, shifting my gaze to the wall. Equally as grey and faded as the ceiling. I curled my legs up, keeping the covers clenched in my palm.6

Slowly, family members began to leave. One by one, until the room was full of attempted suicides again. There was a bitter taste of disappointment in the air. I stayed staring at the wall, blinking my dry eyes slowly. The sound of curtains being drawn made me move onto my back, staring at the nurse drawing the sectioning curtains around me. She smiled at me as she backed out of the ‘room’, clutching a clipboard in her hands. I stared blankly back. A few seconds later, the grinning face of Deanna Brewer appeared between the curtains. 7

“Hello, Conor. How are you feeling?” she said cheerily, sitting in the seat beside me. I followed her with my eyes, my lips staying clamped together. I hoped this small signal would be enough to show her I didn’t want her there, and I wasn’t going to talk. “Well, Conor, I’m sure you know why I’m here,” Pause. “Yes, well, ever onwards, eh? Let’s just begin.” Another pause. Intake of breath. “Now, I don’t expect you to answer straight away, so do take your time. And remember Conor, I’m here to help you – I’m not your enemy.” Pause. “So, down to business. What was it that triggered this attempt, hmm?” She was trying very hard to keep the conversation light and unthreatening. I stared at her, lips together. “That’s right, Conor, take your time. I’m on your side, alright?” More silence. I don’t think she really understood the signal. Maybe I could make it more obvious? So I shifted onto my side, so she was staring at my back. “OK Conor, I understand you’re exhausted. How about we call it a day, and I’ll come back tomorrow. Try to think about my question for me, please.” The chair creaked as she stood, and the curtains rustled when she left. I stayed on my side, unsure of how much more movement my head could take. Tears dripped silently into the pillow, rolling down my face uncontrollably. I clenched my teeth, releasing them quickly when I realised this cause a mega build up of pain in my head. 8

The curtains rustled again, and there were more footsteps. Squeaking though, not like the clicking of Deanna’s heels. The lamp was clicked on and I braced myself for Tegan again.9

“Hey, man” a male voice said softly. I turned in my bed to find the source of the deep voice. I saw the slightly frowning face of Jake, concern splattered across his forehead, but a genuine smile pasted on his lips. I forced my mouth to smile weakly, rolling my head back to look at the ceiling whilst I raised my hand stiffly to wipe my face free of tears. “Are you...you know, alright?” I looked at him, breathing softly. His was a voice I wanted to hear. He studied my face for a while and I stared at his eyes, filled with shock. It almost made me laugh. He almost killed a guy, but here he was, undecided on how soppy to get. Silence spread out before us like land to explore and a blank map. “Oh, Jesus, Conor!” he said loudly, half raising in his seat. He collapsed back again, hanging his head in his hands, elbows resting on knees. I watched silently. My mouth was dry and bitter with regret, but a new feeling of sadness welled up inside as I watched Jake, so uncertain of what to do or say. I just smiled again, small and brief, but he caught it and sat up, slumped against the back of the chair.10

He sat with me for about an hour or so, I lost count of the seconds, until one of the nurses came and threw him out. He waved goodbye and I heard his trainers squeaking against the lino floor as he left. Darkness filled the room, shadows cast by the moonlight shining through the thin curtains. I watched the foot of my bed, eyes itchy and aching for rest. Rest that wouldn’t come. My head throbbed and my body shook slightly as the strange blue filled my eyesight again. 11

“Hey, Conor. Can’t sleep?” The nurse said, standing at the foot of my bed. I struggled with my thoughts for a second, realising she had seen the reflection of the light on my eyes. Or she had routine checks to do. Either one. She moved closer to me, and within an instant had injected something through the needle in the bend of my arm. A warmth swept through my body almost instantly and I was unable to fend off sleep for much longer. My eyelids drooped shut, and my body slumped into a deep, dreamless sleep. 12