Love Me Not

by Villette Snowe

  A woman ran into the room. “Calm down,” she said as she touched my shoulder. “Everything’s all right.”

  “Where am I?” I demanded.

  “Lie back,” she said, “and I’ll tell you. Please.” Her voice was gentle.

  I lay back against the pillow.

  “You’re at St. Vincent’s,” she said. “You’re going to be all right.”

  “Why am I here?”

  Her eyebrows pulled together as her lips curved a little. She looked down at my hand. “You’ve ripped your bandages again.”

  I looked down.

  “Don’t worry,” she said as she touched my hand. “I’ll fix it.”

  My wrists. I could see the stitched cut from under the gauze, travelling down my left arm.

  “No,” I said. “I killed myself.”

  “Maybe I should get the doctor.”

  I sat up as much as I could. “Please.”

  She paused. “Your neighbor found you. The cuts were really deep. You almost didn’t make it.”

  “I wanted to die.”

  Her forehead wrinkled.

  “Please,” I said. “I want to die.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  My voice rumbled from my chest into a growl. “Why did you do this?” I yelled. “I want to die.” My body strained as I pulled at the restraints.

  She moved closer and set a hand on my shoulder. “Please, Heath.”

  I stopped and looked at her.

  “You have auburn hair,” I said.

  “Yes.”

  “Kimber has hair like that.”

  She pressed gently on my shoulder, and I lay down.

  “Is Kimber your wife?”

  “My wife is dead.”

  “Oh…um, so Kimber’s your friend?”

  “No.” I looked away. The curtain was striped, blues and pinks, I think. I couldn’t see very well in the darkness.

  A long pause.

  “You should get some rest,” she said.

  I turned back to her. “Where am I?”

  “St. Vincent’s, remember?”

  “Why am I here?”

  “You, um, you were hurt, and the doctors are making you better.”

  “But they stitched the cuts.”

  “They’re making sure everything’s okay.”

  “They tied me down.”

  “You, um, weren’t yourself when you woke up the first time.”

  “Yes, I was. I don’t like being held in place.”

  “Me, either. I’m sorry about these.” She touched the strap. “I’m sure they’ll take them off soon.” She went over to a cabinet and took out some gauze and white tape. “I almost forgot. I told you I’d fix your bandages.”

  I watched as she gently made the repairs. It didn’t hurt. I wasn’t sure how she did it so well with the restraints in the way.

  Restraints.

  My head was foggy. It was like being blind and having to feel your way around, but only being able to identify a few things within reach.

  “I’m in a psych ward, aren’t I?”

  She looked up from her bandaging. She had to be a nurse or something.

  “Yes, Heath,” she said, “you are.”

  “At St. Vincent’s.” I rested my head back. “This is where my mother died.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  A minute later, she put the gauze and tape away and left.

  I stared at the ceiling for a while, trying to fight my way through the fog. I had to get out of here, and I had to do it soon—which meant I had to get my head straight, at least appear sane. It didn’t matter if I actually was sane.

  A scream echoed from down the hall.

  My head jerked up.

  Then I remembered where I was. Screams were probably common. I set my head back down on the pillow.

  I wondered if my mother had been the screaming type, if she’d been lucid enough to realize she was pregnant. Did she love me? I wondered if she’d picked my name. I never thought to ask Penny if she knew where my name came from.

  Penny, my sister. I closed my eyes and focused on straight lines of thought. The hospital knew my name, which meant they would eventually figure out I had a sister. They would contact her. I had to get out of here before she came. But I didn’t even know how long I’d been here. They knocked me out with drugs at least once. How long had I been out?

  I had to work quickly, convince the doctors I was fine. First, I had to get these damn restraints removed. Even if they didn’t release me from the hospital, if I wasn’t tied to a bed, I’d just sneak out.

  Then I had to figure where to go, someplace where I could get it done right. Maybe out in the woods somewhere, deep in the woods where no one would hear me, or see me. No fucking rescues. And maybe I’d just decompose, so no one would have to deal with finding my body. Yeah, deep woods. That would be wise. There were some huge state parks up in Amelia Island. It was only maybe an hour drive.

  I focused on my goals, on how to get it all done—not on why it needed done.

  The more I focused on those goals, though, the clearer everything else became. That fucking sucked. After Cassie died, I’d wondered if going insane would be easier. Some days I was close to a breakdown. I swore I could feel the fog invading my mind.

  Footsteps coming down the hall.

  I opened my eyes and focused on acting sane. It was such a relative term. Who was to say everyone else was nuts, and I was the one seeing everything perfectly clearly? I supposed it was really a popular vote kind of thing. The majority had the power.

  A woman walked into the room. Shadows fell across her face, and then she moved closer…

  Kimber.

  She smiled at me. Could it really be her?

  No, Heath, you’re seeing shit. Kimber wouldn’t smile at you. Focus, damn you.

  “How are you feeling this morning?” It was the same nurse.

  “Better,” I said with my charming smile.

  She checked the equipment next to my bed. “The sedatives are probably out of your system now. Do you feel more alert?”

  “Yeah, uh, how long have I been out?”

  “About a day and a half since they brought you in.”

  A full day and a half? Shit.

  “When do you think…” I looked down at my hands and lifted them the inch or so that I could.

  “The doctor’s going to see you in a little while. It’ll be up to her.” She finished with whatever she was doing and moved so I could see her without straining my neck.

  “I have to take a leak,” I said.

  “You have a bedpan.”

  “Yeah, that’s going to happen.”

  She smiled. “I don’t think I could, either. I’ll see if the doctor will make you first on her rounds.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Do you need anything else?”

  “I don’t suppose I’m allowed coffee.”

  “I could bring you water or maybe some juice.”

  “Ice water would be good.”

  She smiled again—I liked her smile. It kind of crinkled into her cheeks. “Sure.”

  Before she could leave, I said, “What’s your name?”

  “Nurse Ratchet.”

  I laughed.

  “Sorry. Medical humor.”

  “No, it was funny.”

  “My name’s Molly.” She took my hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Heath.” She turned to leave. I realized she wasn’t shaped at all like Kimber. How had I confused her?

  “Molly,” I said.

  She turned back.

  “Has anyone come to visit me?”

  “She had shoulder-length dark hair. I think she was your sister.”

  Chapter 55

  Rorschach Test

  Penny had already been here. Shit. My plan was swirling down the toilet.

  Only a little while after Molly left, a woman in a lab coat and carrying a clipboard came in. She was probably in her fifties, still nice looking, like Elizabeth.


  I took a silent breath. I couldn’t think about that. I’d go ape-shit again.

  “So, I hear you’re feeling better,” she said as she flipped the pages on her clipboard.

  I wasn’t exactly sure how to act. Normal wouldn’t cut it—what normal person would be okay with being tied down? But I certainly couldn’t show how aggravated I was, either.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Sorry about being trouble.”

  “Do you remember that?” She glanced at me from over her glasses.

  “A little. I was shocked when I woke up. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

  She wrote something on her clipboard. What in the hell is she writing? I resisted the urge to try to sit up and look, though I felt like a fucking toddler talking to people while lying down.

  “I see you haven’t eaten yet,” she said. “I’ll make sure you’re brought something.”

  “Molly’s bringing me water.”

  She finally looked up from her clipboard. “Making friends already.”

  “She’s been nice to me. She told me where I am.”

  “And where are you?”

  “St. Vincent’s psych ward.”

  “Why were you brought here?”

  Why so many fucking asinine questions? I kept my voice level. “Because I tried to kill myself.”

  “Can you tell me why you did that?”

  I closed my eyes, and my jaw clenched. The fucking bitch was going to make me say it. “Because Elizabeth is dead. She followed me across the street and got hit by a car.”

  “I’m sorry.” Then she continued. “Do you feel guilty for that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Elizabeth was a friend? A lover?”

  I opened my eyes. “She was my best friend.” My body tightened from holding back my aggravation. I hoped she didn’t see my forearms were starting to ripple.

  “Do you still want to kill yourself?”

  I had to lie, and I had to do it effectively. “I…I don’t want to hurt Penny again.” There, and that was even the truth, though I was sure the doctor would not agree with me on the best way not to hurt Penny. Doctors didn’t know dick.

  She nodded and wrote something on her clipboard. I watched as her pen scratched the paper and wished I had x-ray vision and, for once, not so I could see under her clothes.

  She wrote a fucking paragraph.

  “Doctor,” I said.

  She looked up, as if we hadn’t just been in the middle of a conversation.

  “I need to use the restroom and…” I lifted my hands the inch that I could, and the metal bed rails clanged.

  “Why haven’t you used the bedpan?” She said it like I was being silly, like a child who refuses to eat anything other than peanut butter.

  “I’d really prefer not to.”

  She pursed her and lips then walked out of the room. I sighed and lay still. My bladder was about to explode.

  Then the doctor came back in—with two large orderlies. They stood on either side of the bed while the doctor disconnected the tube that was in my arm. Then she stood back several feet, as if concerned for her safety, as the orderlies pulled on the thick Velcro straps to release my wrists. I sat up, slowly so as not to upset her.

  The orderly on my left lowered the bed rail and took my arm just above my elbow. I felt like a high-security prisoner.

  He walked me over to the bathroom, which was just through a door on the opposite wall from the bed. He stood in the doorway. I glanced at him, but he kept standing there. Whatever.

  The hospital gown was like a fucking dress. I lifted it up and tucked it under my arm so I wouldn’t piss on it. My dick was a little hard from having to use the restroom so badly and for so long. I held it over the toilet and…Damn did it feel good to empty my bladder. I pissed for a good full minute. I almost closed my eyes to enjoy the emptying feeling.

  I shook off the last few drips and then lifted my arm to let the gown fall back down.

  The orderly was looking at me. I glanced over and realized his gaze lingered a little too low. Of course, it would have to be the gay orderly who followed me to the bathroom.

  I flushed the toilet and then turned on the faucet to wash my hands. The bandages were in the way. I did my best to keep them dry and didn’t entirely succeed.

  I let the orderly take my arm to lead me back to the bed, and I sat on the edge, didn’t lie down.

  “Are you feeling any pain?” the doctor said as she glanced at the bandages.

  I lifted my wrist and looked at the bandage. The wounds did hurt, though it was nothing in comparison to waking up, still alive. I told myself that pain wouldn’t last long. I just had to get through this, convince this doctor I was sane, and then I’d never have to think about Kimber or Elizabeth again.

  “It’s all right,” I said. “Livable.”

  She wrote something on her clipboard.

  The same orderly who’d taken me to the bathroom asked the doctor, “You want us to strap him down again?”

  The doctor looked at me. “What do you think?”

  She was asking if I wanted to be strapped down? I figured she was asking me all these questions just to see how I’d answer, like a Rorschach test—throw miscellaneous shit at the patient and see what comes to his mind, what his reactions are.

  “I’d prefer not to be,” I said. Then I smiled a little. “What if I have to use the restroom again?”

  Her cheeks lifted slightly, like she was fighting a smile. She looked back down at her clipboard and said, “Bedpan.”

  “Not going to happen.”

  Her lips twitched.

  Damn, I was good. I could even charm this bitch of a doctor.

  “All right.” She flipped back to the front page of her clipboard and looked at me. “We’ll see how it goes.” She walked out, followed by the orderlies. The one glanced back at me before disappearing down the hall.

  This was progress at least. I stood and looked around, hoping to find my clothes or scrubs or anything that would cover me without letting my ass hang out. Even if I found my clothes, though, I still had the dilemmas of transportation and money. Surely, my wallet was being kept someplace safe, someplace where I’d never be able to get to it. And I had no one to call, no Elizabeth to come pick me up.

  Standing near the window, I pulled my hands through my hair. No, I couldn’t think about that. I couldn’t afford to lose it again—then I’d never get out of here.

  Hands pressed to my head, I tried to find something else to think about, anything else. My last article floated in and out of my head, the book I just finished and how ironic it was that I ended up in exactly his position.

  None of it would stick. Elizabeth’s face kept coming back…

  I tried staring out the window, at the furniture. None of it worked. I only saw Elizabeth’s face as life faded out of it.

  Shit. Come on, Heath, think of something.

  Kimber’s face appeared—as if to save me. We were making love. She was watching me, meeting my eyes with that honesty I loved about her. I told her I loved her, and I swore something in her eyes, something more than attraction and physical pleasure…

  Footsteps.

  I looked over my shoulder to see the same orderly. I didn’t turn all the way—and let him see I was getting hard.

  He set a cup on the table next to the bed. “Molly said to give you this.”

  “Thanks.”

  He hesitated before leaving.

  I turned back to the window.

  Only a few seconds later, more footsteps. I didn’t turn to look at him this time, no encouragement.

  “Heath.”

  I looked back at the sound of Penny’s shaking voice.

  Chapter 56

  Truth And A Lie

  Penny was across the room before I could react. Then she hugged me.

  I stood there.

  I didn’t know what to do, what was best. If I hugged her back like I wanted, that would make any anger she had evaporate—I knew Penny, how
she worked.

  I stepped back and turned away.

  “Heath,” she said.

  Silence.

  Her breath shook. Seeing Penny cry, causing her to cry, was almost as hard to endure as Kimber’s slap. But I had to be strong. This was for her.

  “I didn’t know,” she said. “I didn’t realize. I’m sorry. I…” She paused as if waiting for a response from me. “I thought it was the same as with all the others. I didn’t know you knew her better than even in passing. I thought I knew her better, how hurt she’d be when she found out you didn’t want anything more than to sleep with her. I know you would never mean to hurt her—you’re just used to dealing with women who only want one thing from you. I knew you would hate yourself when you realized she felt more strongly than you did. I…I thought I was protecting you.”

  “She was hurt anyway,” I said. “What does it matter?”

  A long pause.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  I stayed turned away. I didn’t want her to know how I felt about Kimber. She’d hurt more if she understood the full truth, if she had any idea. She’d torture herself for the rest of her life, maybe even blame herself for my suicide.

  “You…you could try to explain it to her,” she said.

  “Explain what?”

  “That you…love her.”

  I turned. My black notebook, it was in her arms. Son of a fucking bitch.

  I stared at the notebook and then glared at her face. “Get out.”

  She took a half step closer. “Heath.”

  “Get—the fuck—out.”

  Tears rolled down her cheeks. “The doctor kept asking why you did it. I couldn’t give her an answer. She said anything I could tell her would be helpful, so she could…help you deal with it.”

  “I don’t need to deal with anything.”

  She reached out as if to touch my arm but stopped when my lip curled.

  Her voice barely made sound. “I don’t want to lose you too.”

  I yanked the notebook out of her hand and hurled it at the wall. She flinched at the sound it made as it smacked the wall and tumbled to the floor.

  “I don’t need your goddamn help,” I sneered.

  Her chin set stubbornly, the way it did when she had to fire someone. “I’m not giving up on you.”

  “Maybe I haven’t been clear enough. I don’t want your fucking help.”