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Description
I wake up and open my eyes to immediately notice the throbbing headache pulsating through my right temple. My vision is blurry and I can’t seem to make out any of my surroundings. All I know is that I’m still in the hospital. I lift up my left arma nd sigh at the bloodstained bandage wrapped tightly around my arm. I drop my arm at my side and see a nurse enter. She looks at me and turns heel and leaves. The door lightly closes behind her and everything turns silent. My eyes struggle to focus as I begin to count the tiles on the ceiling.
I hear the doorknob turn to see Mikey and Gerard entering. I sigh and move my gaze back to the ceiling. I wasn’t ready to talk let alone explain myself to Mikey. Mikey takes two steps into my room and turns around to face Gerard.
“I can’t,” Mikey says and I turn to look at them.
Mikey slips past Gerard but he stops him before he leaves. The converse for a couple seconds and then Mikey goes. Gerard continues into the room and sits down in a chair by my bed. I feel relieved to know that I don’t have to talk to Mikey.
“How are you feeling?” Gerard asks to start up a conversation.
“Uh, fine I guess,” I reply in my usual tone. “I got a bad headache though. How are you?”
There’s no reply and I begin to wonder why. Those thoughts lead to questions about why Mikey was afraid to confront me.
The thoughts begin to fade when Gerard responds, “Worried.”
“Why?” I ask not thinking of the logical answer to my own question.
“Mikey,” he replies. “He…he’s been acting odd since you…” he trails off and hangs his head.
I remain silent. I can’t figure out why Mikey is acting so oddly but stop my thoughts when I hear Gerard continue to speak.
“You know you worried us. Doing that just worried us,” he says and runs his hand through his shoulder length black hair.
“I’m sorry. It’s impulse,” I say, absent-mindedly building the guilt. “It’s all my fault.”
I slump down into my bed just as it hits me. All my problems, all my mistakes, they all were my fault. I inflicted them upon myself. I sigh and close my eyes. I listen to Gerard stand up and leave. When the door shuts I reopen my eyes and continue counting the ceiling tiles.

I am tugging at the white bandage tightly wrapped around my wrist. Through my constant thinking I was beginning to regret my action. I unwrap my arm and look at the scabbed over cut. My guilt-ridden thoughts flood my mind but are cut short by the opening of the door to my room. In steps my father. Not that I think of him as my father, but he truly is by blood. I sigh in my bed and look away. I hear him move forward and turn back to looking at him. His face clearly unconcerned but for some reason he found a reason to act it.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask in a very pissed off tone.
“I heard about it on the news,” he says simply. “Arienette, why?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” I almost shout beginning to feel sad.
“Tell me, honey, I’m you father,” he says but jest enrages me more.
“Don’t fucking use that line on me! You should be ashamed to call yourself a father,” I shout. “Just fuck off already and leave me like you always do!”
He attempts to speak again but I pummel him before he can. I start to beat the shit out of him and as I do this I realize how much I have kept all my emotions locked up. Satisfaction filled my thoughts as my hands were dirtied with my father’s blood.
“You fucker,” he mumbles and some how manages to throw me off of him. I hear the door open again as I am thrown against the corner of the bed and everything goes black.

I wake up with a headache, a very bad headache that pulsates from one temple to the other with weakening pain. I survey my surroundings and notice Gerard sitting in the chair next to my bed with a very sad looking Mikey curled up in his lap. I presume they are both asleep and have been for a long time but I notice Gerard’s hand stroking Mikey’s hair.
“Gerard.” I mumble in a soft voice, to wanting to wake up Mikey.
He glances over at me to see I am fully awake. The surprise that crosses his face is fully evident.
“Arienette,” he replies after a moment.
“What happened?” I ask, remembering only the few details.
“Your dad hurt you and almost killed you,” he says. “You’ve been out for three days.”
“Bastard,” I mumble under my breath. “How has Mikey been holding up?”
“Besides his happy moments of beating up your father; pretty horrible,” he replies. “He hasn’t been sleeping or eating that much either.”
I watch Mikey sleeping for only a moment before his eyes flutter open and a yawn escapes his lips. He rubs his eyes wearily.
“Good mourning,” I say and he practically jumps onto me. His tight embrace makes me feel welcome. I wrap my arms around him as well and cherish the moment. He gently pushes me away and lightly presses his lips against mine. I give him a kind smile and we embrace once more.
After our happy reunion Mikey settles on the edge of my bed with a smile on his face. Gerard even looks a bit happier as he watches us.
Mikey and I continue our conversation until a doctor enters. He makes himself known by clearing his throat and all three of us turn to look at him.
“Ms. Anderson,” he begins. “We will let you leave today. You must check out before leaving the building and your bill will be sent to your home address,” he continues to inform us.
“Okay. I will,” I respond and watch him nod and leave.
I crawl out of bed and prepare to leave with Gerard and Mikey.

I enter my apartment for the first time in nearly a week. I shiver under my clothes and pull Mikey’s jacket close to my body. My apartment is possibly colder as winter approaches. I am thankful that Mikey let me keep his clothes and his jacket for the time being.
I walk straight down the hall to my bedroom and enter. It feels at least a couple degrees warmer inside my small room. I go to my simple wooden dresser and pull out one of the small top drawers. I push aside the socks that filled the drawer to find my compass. It was pushed back in the corner where I had left it, shining innocently. I listen to my breathing and fight my thoughts. I pick it up and hold it for the moments. It’s shining tip taunting me in silence.
My phone rings through the silence that settled. It rings once more before I drop my compass and rush to the phone in the kitchen. By the third ring I am still coming and my answer machine flicks on and Mikey’s voice begins to talk. I sigh and listen to his voice.
“Hey Arienette. I was wondering if you want to go to dinner tomorrow night?” He asks the message machine, unaware I am listening. “So if you can just call me at home. I have to tell you some new tomorrow so I hope you can come! Bye!”
I listen to him hang up and begin to contemplate whether to go. Mikey sure sounded happy though. I walk to the phone and pick up the receiver. I dial the number and listen to the phone ring.
After two rings, Mikey picks up and says, “Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Arienette,” I greet him. “I just wanted to tell you that I would love to go to dinner with you tomorrow.”
“Great,” he responds cheerfully. “I’ll pick you up around six.”
“Okay. I’ll see you then,” I respond and we say goodbye.
I hand up and go to my couch and grab the remote. I turn on the tv and sit back to watch the flashing pictures of one of my favorite cartoons.

I’m sitting on a riverbank with my hand extended and holding someone who is being pulled away by a strong river current. It’s raining heavily; open cloud downpour. I lean forward to see Mikey’s tear stained face staring up at me with deep regret in his eyes.
The falls down harder—if that’s possible—and I feel our grip begin to loosen. I feel tears fill my eyes as our hands slowly slip apart and Mikey is taken away by the powerful current of the river. I want to jump in after him but can’t. I just lay down on the damp grass and rain mix with my silent tears as I am overwhelmingly sad. Although I do not wish him to leave something keeps me where I am. Something holds me tight to my resting place.

I wake to the sound of thunder and falling rain outside my window. I sit up in my bed and glance at my clock. It is almost 10. I decide too not try to sleep anymore and begin moving. I crawl out from under my ragged blanket and sheets and place my feet gently on the oddly cold carpeted floor. I shiver under my scant bed-clothes and stand. I make my way to my simple dresser and pull out a shirt, a pair of jeans that were torn at the knees, and some plain old socks. I then cross the hall to the bathroom and take a nice warm shower. The winter cold is almost gone and I so dearly want it to depart.

Description
I wake up and open my eyes to immediately notice the throbbing headache pulsating through my right temple. My vision is blurry and I can’t seem to make out any of my surroundings. All I know is that I’m still in the hospital. I lift up my left arma nd sigh at the bloodstained bandage wrapped tightly around my arm. I drop my arm at my side and see a nurse enter. She looks at me and turns heel and leaves. The door lightly closes behind her and everything turns silent. My eyes struggle to focus as I begin to count the tiles on the ceiling.
I hear the doorknob turn to see Mikey and Gerard entering. I sigh and move my gaze back to the ceiling. I wasn’t ready to talk let alone explain myself to Mikey. Mikey takes two steps into my room and turns around to face Gerard.
“I can’t,” Mikey says and I turn to look at them.
Mikey slips past Gerard but he stops him before he leaves. The converse for a couple seconds and then Mikey goes. Gerard continues into the room and sits down in a chair by my bed. I feel relieved to know that I don’t have to talk to Mikey.
“How are you feeling?” Gerard asks to start up a conversation.
“Uh, fine I guess,” I reply in my usual tone. “I got a bad headache though. How are you?”
There’s no reply and I begin to wonder why. Those thoughts lead to questions about why Mikey was afraid to confront me.
The thoughts begin to fade when Gerard responds, “Worried.”
“Why?” I ask not thinking of the logical answer to my own question.
“Mikey,” he replies. “He…he’s been acting odd since you…” he trails off and hangs his head.
I remain silent. I can’t figure out why Mikey is acting so oddly but stop my thoughts when I hear Gerard continue to speak.
“You know you worried us. Doing that just worried us,” he says and runs his hand through his shoulder length black hair.
“I’m sorry. It’s impulse,” I say, absent-mindedly building the guilt. “It’s all my fault.”
I slump down into my bed just as it hits me. All my problems, all my mistakes, they all were my fault. I inflicted them upon myself. I sigh and close my eyes. I listen to Gerard stand up and leave. When the door shuts I reopen my eyes and continue counting the ceiling tiles.

I am tugging at the white bandage tightly wrapped around my wrist. Through my constant thinking I was beginning to regret my action. I unwrap my arm and look at the scabbed over cut. My guilt-ridden thoughts flood my mind but are cut short by the opening of the door to my room. In steps my father. Not that I think of him as my father, but he truly is by blood. I sigh in my bed and look away. I hear him move forward and turn back to looking at him. His face clearly unconcerned but for some reason he found a reason to act it.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask in a very pissed off tone.
“I heard about it on the news,” he says simply. “Arienette, why?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” I almost shout beginning to feel sad.
“Tell me, honey, I’m you father,” he says but jest enrages me more.
“Don’t fucking use that line on me! You should be ashamed to call yourself a father,” I shout. “Just fuck off already and leave me like you always do!”
He attempts to speak again but I pummel him before he can. I start to beat the shit out of him and as I do this I realize how much I have kept all my emotions locked up. Satisfaction filled my thoughts as my hands were dirtied with my father’s blood.
“You fucker,” he mumbles and some how manages to throw me off of him. I hear the door open again as I am thrown against the corner of the bed and everything goes black.

I wake up with a headache, a very bad headache that pulsates from one temple to the other with weakening pain. I survey my surroundings and notice Gerard sitting in the chair next to my bed with a very sad looking Mikey curled up in his lap. I presume they are both asleep and have been for a long time but I notice Gerard’s hand stroking Mikey’s hair.
“Gerard.” I mumble in a soft voice, to wanting to wake up Mikey.
He glances over at me to see I am fully awake. The surprise that crosses his face is fully evident.
“Arienette,” he replies after a moment.
“What happened?” I ask, remembering only the few details.
“Your dad hurt you and almost killed you,” he says. “You’ve been out for three days.”
“Bastard,” I mumble under my breath. “How has Mikey been holding up?”
“Besides his happy moments of beating up your father; pretty horrible,” he replies. “He hasn’t been sleeping or eating that much either.”
I watch Mikey sleeping for only a moment before his eyes flutter open and a yawn escapes his lips. He rubs his eyes wearily.
“Good mourning,” I say and he practically jumps onto me. His tight embrace makes me feel welcome. I wrap my arms around him as well and cherish the moment. He gently pushes me away and lightly presses his lips against mine. I give him a kind smile and we embrace once more.
After our happy reunion Mikey settles on the edge of my bed with a smile on his face. Gerard even looks a bit happier as he watches us.
Mikey and I continue our conversation until a doctor enters. He makes himself known by clearing his throat and all three of us turn to look at him.
“Ms. Anderson,” he begins. “We will let you leave today. You must check out before leaving the building and your bill will be sent to your home address,” he continues to inform us.
“Okay. I will,” I respond and watch him nod and leave.
I crawl out of bed and prepare to leave with Gerard and Mikey.

I enter my apartment for the first time in nearly a week. I shiver under my clothes and pull Mikey’s jacket close to my body. My apartment is possibly colder as winter approaches. I am thankful that Mikey let me keep his clothes and his jacket for the time being.
I walk straight down the hall to my bedroom and enter. It feels at least a couple degrees warmer inside my small room. I go to my simple wooden dresser and pull out one of the small top drawers. I push aside the socks that filled the drawer to find my compass. It was pushed back in the corner where I had left it, shining innocently. I listen to my breathing and fight my thoughts. I pick it up and hold it for the moments. It’s shining tip taunting me in silence.
My phone rings through the silence that settled. It rings once more before I drop my compass and rush to the phone in the kitchen. By the third ring I am still coming and my answer machine flicks on and Mikey’s voice begins to talk. I sigh and listen to his voice.
“Hey Arienette. I was wondering if you want to go to dinner tomorrow night?” He asks the message machine, unaware I am listening. “So if you can just call me at home. I have to tell you some new tomorrow so I hope you can come! Bye!”
I listen to him hang up and begin to contemplate whether to go. Mikey sure sounded happy though. I walk to the phone and pick up the receiver. I dial the number and listen to the phone ring.
After two rings, Mikey picks up and says, “Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Arienette,” I greet him. “I just wanted to tell you that I would love to go to dinner with you tomorrow.”
“Great,” he responds cheerfully. “I’ll pick you up around six.”
“Okay. I’ll see you then,” I respond and we say goodbye.
I hand up and go to my couch and grab the remote. I turn on the tv and sit back to watch the flashing pictures of one of my favorite cartoons.

I’m sitting on a riverbank with my hand extended and holding someone who is being pulled away by a strong river current. It’s raining heavily; open cloud downpour. I lean forward to see Mikey’s tear stained face staring up at me with deep regret in his eyes.
The falls down harder—if that’s possible—and I feel our grip begin to loosen. I feel tears fill my eyes as our hands slowly slip apart and Mikey is taken away by the powerful current of the river. I want to jump in after him but can’t. I just lay down on the damp grass and rain mix with my silent tears as I am overwhelmingly sad. Although I do not wish him to leave something keeps me where I am. Something holds me tight to my resting place.

I wake to the sound of thunder and falling rain outside my window. I sit up in my bed and glance at my clock. It is almost 10. I decide too not try to sleep anymore and begin moving. I crawl out from under my ragged blanket and sheets and place my feet gently on the oddly cold carpeted floor. I shiver under my scant bed-clothes and stand. I make my way to my simple dresser and pull out a shirt, a pair of jeans that were torn at the knees, and some plain old socks. I then cross the hall to the bathroom and take a nice warm shower. The winter cold is almost gone and I so dearly want it to depart.