Situations // Kiah

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Pain. That's what's going through my mind right now. Well actually, it's going through my hands and sending signals to my brain that say ow hot what the frick was that but that's beside the point. Or is. I'm not really all that sure right now, all I know is that my hands hurt. A lot. It wasn't really my fault, though the other kids at the home insist that it is. You see, sometimes things find their way into my pockets when I'm not thinking too hard about it. I don't mean to take them, I just sort of do and then before you know it, a bunch of people are seriously pissed off. Well anyways, someone was baking a batch of cookies. The kind I like too, oatmeal raisin with all the little dried up grapes poking out of the folds in the mush and getting all tasty and warm and delicious. So, it's not hard to see that because I kept thinking about them as they cooled on the tray on top of the stove they started to wind up inside my pockets. Easy peasy to understand how they got there right? Good. But the only problem was that I must have bumped into the dial on the stove as I was doing that.

Usually not a big deal except that before that I was helping one of the smaller kids fry potatoes in oil and my hands were greasy and fwoosh my hands caught on fire and ow. Its a good thing that one of the boys had him a mug of coffee and put the fire out. Of course the coffee was hot too so it was like counter productive. I think I passed out after that because the next thing I remember was waking up in the hospital and goodness gracious its a good thing our district is all about that kind of thing because otherwise I might have been passed out on the floor for ages getting my good clothes ruined and maybe even more of me would have been on fire. But like I was saying, I woke up in the hospital and and hands were wrapped in a bunch of white bandages and the doctor was saying something about how many degrees the burns were but I didn't quite catch that because he had a pen sticking out of his left pocket and it had a red cap and so I thought to myself hey, I don't think I have one of those so I guess I tried to take it but closing my hand made a hurt and the room got all spinny for a couple of seconds while the doctor shook his head the way adults do when they think you've done something stupid. Then he signaled for someone to stab me in the arm with a needle hooked up to a bag and since then I've just been kind of out of it and everything has been moving really fast and I've been happy which is odd because usually I'm a bit more sarcastic and demure or at least I like to think so but right now no.

I'm starting to have a bad feeling that when the bag next to the bed runs out of happy juice I'm going to be very upset and likely my usual charming not charming self but for now at least my hands don't hurt so that's a huge bonus. There isn't anyone else in the burn ward right now, except that there was a couple other people in here earlier but they're gone. One was a man that looked like something had blown up in front of him and he was on fire and I think he died. It must have been painful because it looked lie his clothes were a part of his skin in some places. I heard someone say lab and someone else say turpentine, but whatever the case he was twitching for a long time and then he wasn't and then they put the sheet over his head. Later I saw a woman that had something thrown at her face and the doctor said she was lucky because it had missed her eyes and at least she wasn't going to go blind which she was happy about but it looked like the skin was gone from her forehead and nose which was kind of gross.

My head is starting to hurt now, but my hands still aren't and everything isn't moving as fast as it has been, I guess the morphling or whatever is starting to wear off. Wow, but that would embarrassing if someone came in and I was going on and on like some kind of empty-headed capitolite. Eeesh. I remember something else. Oh yeah, they left food and drink for me on the table next to my bed. I turn my head and can see a turkey sandwich on a plate next to a glass of water that has a straw sticking out of it. Man, that would be great except that I can't move my hands on account of the bandages. Come to think of it, now that I look down I can see that I'm in one of those hospital gowns which honestly doesn't make any sense because the injuries are only on my hands. Why'd they have to put me in a full on gown? I swing my legs off of the bed and stand up, an action that is only slightly impeded by the needle in my arm and I try to bend and get at the food. The water I can drink, but all my attempts to get a bit of the sandwich fail pretty badly. I get a little bit, but mostly I just manage to move it back and forth on the plate with my mouth.

I sit back on the bed and grimace. I'm going to need some help. Unfortunately, there doesn't appear to be anyone else in the ward right now. Like at all. No other patients, no doctors, not even any nurses. Which sucks. A lot. I sigh irritably and wait for a few minutes, hoping that someone will stop by. No one does. I consider getting up and walking until I find someone, but that;s going to be a bit hard considering that I'm hooked up to something and, hey, there's a paper clip on the floor. I start to reach for it and a small wave of pain courses through my hand so I curse under my breath and try to grab it with my toes instead. It works and I bring my leg up onto the bed and deposit the clip by the footboard. I'll have to remember to grab it again before I leave, but at least now its more accessible. Still, I want to eat that food. But if I'm going to, I'm going to need some help, and seeing that no one is here and that I can't leave, I'm going to have to get someone to come where I am. But what to say? What do I need to say in order to convince the listener that I am in dire straits and in need of some speedy assistance? Perhaps it would be best if I went for the simple and direct approach.


"Hey! Heeeey! Someone?! Helllloo? Starving girl over in the burn ward!"

My voice gets louder with each greeting shouted. Hopefully, a worker will hear the noise and investigate. If they don't, then I shall be doomed to a death of slow starvation in a place meant to keep people from dying. That is irony at its finest. Even more so considering that I live at an orphanage and I actually get more to eat there than I have here. Woe, woe is me, for this truly blows chunks and I'm getting more hungry by the minute. This keeps up for too much longer and I bet I'll get a visit from the Hartmyres. That's the family that digs the graves right? Right? My tombstone shall read, here lies Maye who just wanted a frickin cookie and starved to death in the hospital because they didn't keep anyone by her to attend to her needs. I start to yell again, hoping that someone, anyone is listening and is not too busy letting other people die to give me a helping hand. Must be something they learn in orientation. One hundred and one ways to ignore your patients until they won't bother you any more. Which still doesn't explain why somebody felt the need to put me in a hospital gown. Freaks. You know, this is why that guy died. They were too busy figuring out how he caught on fire to figure out what they needed to do to fix him a- Wait a minute. They took my clothes. My oatmeal raisin cookies were in the pockets of my jeans.

Son of a bitch.

[k!ah]

s o n j a arcopello.

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Come on Sonja, let’s go for a walk. Come on now, up to the top floor, no don’t stop here Sonja… we need to go to the top, the very top. The place where you will feel the wind flow through your long hair, the place where you will let your body fall, let gravity take over… Come on now Sonja, to the top, the very top. My feet moved on their own, taking my body through the white hallways of my home. Home. I didn’t really know if I should call this place home, it was a hospital, the place where the sick, where the dying or where the hurt come to get better. But this place, this place is where I have spent most my life, I have grown up in these hallways, walked them for as long as I can remember. This hospital was my home, my place of sanctuary.

Come on now Sonja, just take another step. That’s right, good girl, yes, see you can do this. Follow my voice, it will lead the way, we will be safe soon, falling into the arms of God. Yes. I would be safe soon, in the arms of God. I just needed to make it to the top floor. My body moved almost as though I was a robot, taking each step nice and slow towards the stairs that would lead me to my destination. I didn’t know why I was going to the top floor, all I knew is that this is what I wanted, to go to the top floor and fall into his arms, to be safe, to be safe and warm, away from this place. Safe and warm in the arms of God. Safe. Warm.

It takes me a while, but I finally reach the stairs, my hand reaches out for the rail, which I hold tightly. The metal was cool against my soft skin, but I didn’t mind, I welcomed it actually. I welcomed the way the metal felt so hard, so solid and stable, it contrasted so much with my body, my human body- which was weak, fragile and prone to sickness and death. I was not like that pole, that strong sturdy pole of steel. I was weak, breakable. That’s right Sonja, you are breakable, and soon, you will be broken, in tiny pieces on the ground, blood and matter. But don’t worry my child; it won’t hurt, not for long, okay? Hey now, don’t be scared, there’s nothing to fear, I’ll take care of you. You-you just have to believe. That right, sweetie, to the very top.

To the top. Okay. I could do that. To the top. Trust. I had to trust that I would be safe. I had to trust that it wouldn’t hurt. I had to trust. That’s all. Trust. I could do that. Taking a deep breath I climb the flight of stairs, one foot moving after the other, a symmetrical pattern, a routine. One step. Two step. Three step. Four step. And so on, until I reached the top. I didn’t stop there, I kept moving, pushing my body forward. One step, two step, three step, four step… and on and on I went. The white lights of the hallway bounced around me, making me seem so small, so insignificant, but I tried not to let that bother me. I was not insignificant. I was something, something important, something that mattered, I was. I was not an ant in this hospital, no, I was not. Ants were forgettable, they didn’t matter, me? I did. I have lived here for years, each day I am seen by a nurse, and a doctor, and each day I am told that I am important, that my life was important. That’s why I had to do this, that why I had to fall into the arms of God, let him take me away, cause I was important, I meant something. My life was something.

That’s right Sonja, you are important, you were chosen. Chosen by the Gods. You are nearly there, nearly ready to complete the mission that you have been tasked. Think of the wind rushing through your hair, or the way it will wrap its arms around your body, holding you as you fall. Just think, create an image, come one now, you can do this. Think Sonja. Think. You are chosen. You are special. I am special. I form an image of me standing of the edge of the building, I imagine the wind wrapping its arms around my body, holding me tight. I image the rush of air, the whistle of wind, and then I am falling. actually falling. My knees hit the ground first, then my hands, my face following a few moments later. Okay, maybe I had taken the imagery too far, I scold myself, getting back onto my feet, “Sonja? Sonja what are you doing up here? Were- were you heading to the roof? Sonja, not again!” Her voice is soft as she wanders over to me, wrapping me in her arms. Ruby. The person who has always been there for me. The person who I can only see. “You have to beat it, Sonja, you have to fight the thoughts! Otherwise you are going to get yourself killed!” Her voice is laced with worry as she pulls me to my feet.

I look into her eyes, and know that I had lost. The voices had beaten me. They had told me to jump off the edge of this six story tall building. And I was going to do it; I had believed that I was special, that if I jumped I was doing it because I was chosen… it had all just been a cruel game of my imagination. “I am sorry, Ruby… I had believed it, you know? Really thought that what I was about to do was going to be good for me… I can’t fight it… I am too weak.” I say finally, turning my face away from the girl who was my life, who I could tell anything too.

“Yes. Yes you can,” was all she said before fading away into nothing before my eyes. But could I? Could I beat the voices inside me head? Yes I-

The sound of someone screaming- screaming for attention made my thoughts stop mid-sentence. I look up, my eyes searching the area. I was in the burns department. Taking one more look around I realised that no one was going to help the person who was calling out. With a shrug I moved off towards the sound of the voice that grew ever so loud. Finally I reach the howling voice, and I was surprised to see a girl around my age perched on the edge of her bed, her hands wrapped up in white. She looked like she had oven mitts on and I suppress a burst of laughter. She looked like she was ready to reach into the oven and pull out a tray of baked goodies. Well her hands did anyway. Her face? Her face was another story. It was screwed up, in mid howl.

“Hey, hey, wait, please don’t scream again. I hurts my ears, what are you? Some dying animal?” As soon as the words feel from my lips I knew I had been a tad harsh. Opps. I have never really been one to use harsh words. “Ugh, sorry. What’s wrong? Are you okay? From the racket your making, anyone would think you’re about to die,” I try to joke, a small burst of laughter slipping from my lips.

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I start to feel a throbbing sensation in the side of my head that quickly races down to my hands in the form of a muted roar. Whatever they've been pumping into me is beginning to wear off and I doubt that that is a good thing because I'm starting to feel out of it in a different way than before. Instead of everything moving all super fast , things are a little stretched out. I blink rapidly and the room starts to speed up again. The taste of the sandwich continues to elude me, but I'm able to see that between the slices of wheat bread and turkey meat, there is a cheese, and what looks to be a dash of mustard. The slice of cheese is probably cheddar because from here I can tell that its orange. Just orange, not a mix of orange and white or that weird marble or a sickly yellow. Which is what my skin is going to turn into if I don't get something to eat soon. I sit on the edge of the bed facing the door and start to holler again. It's my hope that this draws someones attention before the unthinkable happens.

I wouldn't be surprised if my life started to flash before my eyes. It doesn't, but I still find myself thinking about the events of the past couple of days. There was the fight I got into because that one girls comb found its way into the crack between my headboard and the wall, and the looks of exasperation that were given to me when all of the homes spoons were found lined up a neat little row from largest to smallest under my bed. Then that building inspector's pen vanished from his pocket, but I mean, its not like he was really using it. I just kind of had to liberate it. I really tried not to you know, but my hands kept doing that clench unclench clench thingy that they do sometimes and so of course I had to take the pen. It was the right thing to do. Just like the right thing for the staff of this forsaken building to do would be to get someone to help me eat this frickin turkey sandwich. Wishful thinking.

And wouldn't you know it but it worked. A brunette girl walks into the room with a look of concern etched on her face but its actually kind of confusing because she doesn't look like a nurse. Maybe she's an intern. Or one of those top secret researchers that takes people away to the institute where they are never seen again. But she looks kinda young for that; actually she looks around the same age as me, maybe a little younger, maybe a little older. She's also well dressed. But that's just an observation and I don't think it has anything to do with anything. I stare at her quizzically as she approaches, narrowing my eyes to a squint and pursing my lips. She could be here to help or here to harvest my fingernails. One can never tell with people that wander white coat areas without the white coat.

I blink rapidly a couple times to throw her off balance and take a better look. If she has any hair ties, they might look better wrapped around the bar at the end of the bed. But she's getting real close now; like personal space close so I really can't be held responsible for anything that happens because she said I sounded like a dying animal before apologizing and saying that instead I just sound like I'm dying. Not really much of a change in words there. That's like stabbing me to death and then saying I'm only mostly dead. Mostly. But I supposed it can't be helped. I was hoping that someone would stop by to help me and I don't really have a say in who heard me now do I? Also, I'm satisfied that she's not going to experiment on me or anything, so she can probably be trusted. Widening my eyes and putting on a smile, I incline my head towards her since going for a handshake is out of the question."Hi. Hello. Thanks for stopping by. I don't think I sound like a strangled cat thank you very much, but you're half right. I could have died." I gesticulate wildly with my hands;which probably looks weird since they're so wrapped up but oh well.

"You see, my hands are kind of not working right now. That being said, I am finding it hard to grab that sandwich over there." I point with my face, leaning my chin on my shoulder to gaze at the food in question. I think I might have been taking my hands for granted all this time. I use them for everything but I don't really take the time to stop and appreciate just how many things that they are needed for. For crying out loud I couldn't even scratch an itch if I had one and goodness knows but if I got an itch under the bandages it would be the end of life as we know it."So, I was hoping that someone could, you know. Feed me." The request is a little odd I guess, but its far from the worst thing that someone cold ask for in the hospital. Its not a bed pan or a sponge bath for a decrepit old man, its just a turkey and cheese sandwich for a poor girl that almost wasted away to nothing. I try to make my face look pleadingly without being pitiful but lets be honest. If you need someone to hold a sandwich up to your mouth so you can take a bite, you're pretty far down on the ladder of self-respect."Just so you know, my name is Maye." There. That should help establish an air of familiarity for this new brunette girl.

[k!ah]

s o n j a arcopello.

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My laughter doesn’t last long though. I had expected the bandaged covered hand girl would laugh along with me. But she didn’t She gave me a look that made my laughter die as it reached my lips. Awkwardly I look away from the girl and at my hands which were ringing around each other nervously. I have never been that girl who could interact with other human being fluently. I have always found it that bit more difficult talking to others. I was a great listener though, listening to other when no one else would listen was something that I took pride in. I liked to listen to the stories that people in my ward had to tell. I loved to see the way their faces changed as they surfed through memories that were dull to memories that made them smile like they hadn’t smiled in years, It was beautiful, fascinating but very beautiful. The stories that I heard were stories that sometimes hit me hard, stories that I could relate too- that’s when I really would be able to have a deep and meaningful with the person who I was listening to. But me, trying to find the right words to sooth a broken soul, one that I could not even relate to? That I struggled with. I struggle to find the right words, the words that would sooth the patient, which would numb the pain that radiated within them.

Hastily pull my gaze away from my ringing fingers my eyes connecting with the blonde girls once again. The girl inclines her head politely- in a way of a handshake I guess. I smile back at her, a little, letting the corners of my mouth turn up at the corners as I wander slowly into the room. Her voice is friendly as she greets me. But then suddenly she is waving her hands around dramatically, telling me that she could have died. A frown slips onto my face my smile slipping away. She could have died? How? It seemed to me that her hands were the only injured part of her body, from as far as I could tell.

But I didn’t have to wait long for my question to be answered. The girl didn’t even wait for me to respond before she continued on with the conversation, “…You see, my hands are kind of not working right now. That being said, I am finding it hard to grab that sandwich over there." The girl’s eyes travel over to the sandwich that sat on the table beside her bed. There was something that flashed in her eyes that I had barely enough time to try and register: longing? Desire? Something inside me made me smile at the girl’s compassion for the sandwich on the table. She reminded me of my sister who had died when I was younger. My sister would walk past the kitchen, only to pause at the site of some fresh bread that had been baked, something that had rarely happened. Because she had only been short, she couldn’t reach the counter and she would try anything- and I mean anything- to try and get that bread down to here level so that she could have a taste of it. I caught her once and her facial expression when she turned around was a cross between undying desire and embarrassment.

My thoughts of my sister die as the voice of the girl filters through my mind, “so, I was hoping that someone could, you know. Feed me." I give the girl an odd look. Never before has someone asked me to feed them before- even though this was a hospital and many odd things happened here, I was not a nurse, and therefore I never really interacted with the people outside of my ward. It was not like I didn’t want to talk to them and more like the nurses would not allow me to talk with them. After all I was in the permanent ward for a reason and the nurses didn’t really feel that it was safe for me- or the other citizens who visited the hospital. Taking a quick glance over my shoulder I move closer to the girl- the girl who was now revealed to be called Maye.

“Hey Maye- I'm Sonja- sorry about before, I didn’t mean to offend you or anything,” my voice is polite as I move to take a seat at the bed which sat a few feet away from Mayes. My eyes travel over to the sandwich that sat on the table beside her and my stomach growled. How long had it been since I had last eaten? Go on Sonja. Eat the sandwich, you know you want to. A voice, not my own or Mayes, slides into my thoughts and I freeze. Ha that’s right Sonja, I am back. Now eat it. Eat it all, in front of this girl. Eat it slowly, savour the taste of that beautiful bread in your mouth, filling your hungry stomach. Just reach out and feel the soft spongy bread in your fingers. I try to fight the voice, remembering what Ruby had said. I was strong. Stronger than the voice that played endlessly through my thoughts I was stronger. Where’s Ruby? She sot coming, not this time. You are mine for a while. Pick up the sandwich.

[/i][/color] The voice mocks me, and almost like a robot, my hand moves to pick up the sandwich. I try not to look at the girl and I hold the sandwich in my hands. It looked so nice, it looked like to would take away the uncomfortable pains of hunger. I swallow hard.

Look at the girl Sonja. I wanna see her face when you take a big bite of that delicious sandwich. Look up. I look up.

Now take a nice big biteThe voice laughed in my head as I moved the sandwich towards my mouth, my mouth closing down on the soft bread. I close my eyes for a moment, really indulging in the taste of the bread and the filling of the sandwich. It was so delicious. My mouth watered as I let the taste make my tastebuds dance.
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I'm more in control of my thought process now, even though it normally moves a mile a minute. I just have more focus than I did a couple of minutes ago, that's all. Enough focus to realize that after she picks up my delicious, delectable food, she doesn't even try to get it near my mouth. No, it inches closer and closer to hers and before I know it, she's taken a huge bite out of it. But wait, there's more! She has the nerve to look me straight in the eyes and mock me with her own, oh I know that look all too well. It's a look that should totally be on my face and not hers. A couple of adjectives spring to mind, but none that I could use in polite company; though, seeing as how she's eating my freaking food I don't think this could really be considered polite company. So she's a bitchy bitch. There I said it. I mean thought it. The words are in my mouth but they aren't coming out. All that came out was a kind of spluttering sputter before I finally managed to get some language out. And none of the foul variety. Yay restraint! " Whoa whoa whoa. I said feed me the sandwich. Not eat the sandwich." And she's looking at me with those eyes and so its difficult not to fume.

You know, for a moment there, I really thought she was going to help me, seeing as how I was and still am in dire straits. Alas, but courtesy has become an endangered species. I'd shed a tear because of this sad truth if not for the fact that I'm so mad. She must be doing this just to get to me. I've never met her before and thus I don't think I've ever done anything to her. Right? I don't think I've ever cut her in line, taken her belongings, taken her boyfriend or a hundred and one other things that would explain why she would feel a need to get back at me. So if she wasn't trying to get back at me, it would stand to reason that she was doing this just because she could. Because I can't exactly hit her without making my hands hurt more and... well I suppose I could kick her but then what if I break my foot? No, that wouldn't do. Then I wouldn't even be able to get to the bathroom; And I am NOT asking her for help with that. I shudder to think how she might decide to help me with that. If that could even be called help.

Sonja. That is the name of this girl. Sooonnnjaaaaa. Sound it out. S-o-n-ee--yaa. Her name might as well be 'hello I take other people's food watcha gon do bout it" but that's besides the point. The point is that she's trying to get a reaction out of me. For what purpose I don't know. Besides the point, I am not going to give her the satisfaction of seeing me flip out. Nope. Not going to do it. Swallowing back every retort present in my mind, I do my best to look suddenly disinterested, turning my head to the side and sniffing as if the sandwich was beneath me and not the best damn sandwich I was ever going to have. So instead of biting her head off, I just give her a disparaging glare and roll my eyes as I shimmy my upper body in clear indidnation."Rude."