devastation

“good.” Lacy was decisive in all things, and this was good. She didn’t want him to go, he wasn’t gonna. But now they needed something to talk about. Looking to the machines around her, she asked a question. “Has you ever been sick before?” He wasn’t sick now. Lacy liked all-better stories.

Cecily was wondering around the building, seven the hallucinated cat following closely behind as she searched for Binkie cat, the toy she carried most places with her. it was tattered and old, it was missing his tail and while it had once been white in color, it was now slightly more grey, but that didn’t matter to Cecily, she needed that cat. Finishing her search of the rec room, she wondered to the next, where she was stopped by someone else. ‘‘ I’m looking for my binkie cat, he’s small and white with pink ears. ’’

Tasha was a bit of a social chameleon. Her charm and extroversion was something she could click on for others to watch like a tv: bright, captivating, great for a story or two. But every so often, the sickly young thing let herself slip back into the comfort of wallflower-dom. Always the curious sort, she had a love for lingering just a little too long in shops or rooms, watching the strangers around her go through the expressions that strung together their days, their lives. If she ever got out of her cycle of hospitalizations, she would love to study psychology. This man was so far off–wherever his head was, his body was steady and firm as it was seemingly hollow, a sculpted nautilus shell hunched over a book. Usually, she had a good enough sense of when her lingering passed the “too long” point, but she found herself startled by the man’s voice as his eye slipped off the pages and found her in the doorway. “N-no, sorry, I uh… was just looking for somewhere to read was all. Library is having a class with the kids and it’s a little… little rowdy for my taste right now,” she covered.

“You can sit in here and read if you like?” John offered, looking back at her. It was just him in here after all, and he wouldn’t bother her if she wanted silence. Sometimes he felt more comfortable in it anyway.

Aislynn was never a runner. If a challenge knocked at her door, she loved to pull up her shirt sleeves and get ready for a fight; it was just her nature. Anxiety, however, always shook up her spirit and threw a wrench in that tenacity she toted so proudly. After depressive or anxious spells, her threshold for human interaction always plummeted through the floor. So why wasn’t this guy freaking her out? There was no pull to the door handle, no innate fear… maybe she was too tired to feel those things right now, or maybe, his fog was matching hers. She could see it, looking at him now: he was in the same place as her.

“…I, I guess I can for a bit,” she murmured, quietly slipping her way to the couch.

Sometimes he wondered if this was even the right place for him. It was full of kids and full of unhappiness and people with serious illnesses that maybe he couldn’t even cure. He just felt deflated most of the time, caught in a thick mist, and he didn’t know if he’d ever get out from under it. John went quiet for a little while, looking back down again. After a little while he glanced back over at her. “Everything alright?”

“that’s okay Mr doctor!” She was the exact opposite type person to blame a doctor when her treatment gave her side effects. She knew it was all in the name of getting better. “Um…” she didn’t know what to ask for. “Don’t go?” It wasn’t that she was scared. The social butterfly just liked talking to people. Her math was boring, compared to talking to people.

“no…” she responded, rocking a little in the chair. “I get all yucky and then I don’t get better until a ittkr after chair time is all done.” All don’t used loosely, here. Because she was never all done.

People just proved to be too much, too soon today. She really thought she could do it. Aislynn thought she could come out of hiding after all these weeks and just dive back into the regularity of social interaction, but even so much as talking to a nurse about how she was feeling was giving her anxiety again. Too wired to sleep but too tired to keep this up, Aislynn ducked into the rec room trying to catch a break–but to no avail. “N-no, I’m sorry I was just… um…” Really bad time for the fog to start coming back and take away her words.

John looked up at her. It was obvious she was lost for words but was it shyness or something else? He offered her a small smile, hoping he looked friendly enough despite his own head. “It’s alright.” He assured her. “You can sit if you like.”

“that’s fine!” she said, moving a little so he could see the numbers that her arm covered sometimed.

“i feel ish okay. gonna be yucky tomorrow. i’m on day… this many.” holding up two fingers, she explained that she was on day 2. on day 3, historically, was when she started puking.

She smiled, friendly face meeting another. “hi john! Doctor John, I mean. Hi Mr Doctor John!” she was chirrping, her vibrant energy showing even from her chair. “new doctors?” she asked, a little nervous. had something bad happened to her old doctors? or maybe it was just because they wanted to get her all better sooner so they needed other doctors.

“okay…” she slowly decided, apprehensive to allow this but trusting enough to do so. “okay. hi new doctor John. are you here to look at mine beep-beep machines? I have lots of them, see?”