Flower's Bloom pt 1
Anya laid in her hospital bed and was in deep thought. She actually was trying not to think of anything, but she was failing incredibly. The more she tried to clear her mind, the more her mind focused on what was around her. She laid in bed, unable to leave; and just was aware.
She was so very much aware.
She was aware of the wind that rustled a branch just outside her window. The branch peeked in a tantalizing way, and she could not even see the trunk. It was a branch that reached to the window of her bed to scrape against the window ever so smoothly but she would hear it, behind all the constant noise, as a background to everything else.
She was aware of the birds chirping outside of the hospital. In the eight days Anya was in that room, she had learned to tell the different chirps apart, from distressed to soothing. She knew which were happy and which were calling out trying to reach a friend. She would count them daily to see how many she could count without forgetting or mixing birds up. She counted twenty-seven birds. Somehow, twenty-seven birds seemed like too many birds in one area to Anya. Eleven chirped every morning before the sun rose. They would call to one another a chippergood morning call. It would wake Anya and she rarely got any sleep as it was. Here she was trying to get some rest to hopefully get better, and yet, all she could think of were how many birds were outside her window with their annoying chirping. It bothered her to think of the birds but it was often what she thought of for hours in the morning.
She was aware of her beating heart thumps in her chest. The pumps were a low drum in her ears that she could not ignore. Always there, always beating inside, and always coming to the front of her mind. She was aware of the numbness of her toes. She could wiggle them if she focused but since she could not feel them, the only way she knew if they moved or not was if she looked. It was her body what she was most aware of, and yet she wanted to know nothing of . Because unfortunately, looking was quite the double edged sword.
If she looked, that meant she had to see. She had to see her broken body. She had to see her light skin contrast harshly against the dark purple bruises on her limbs. Those marks that decorated her body and made her look like she was a gruesome painting. The television stayed on all day and night because she could not stand to see herself in its dark screen’s reflection. Seeing herself was the worst. Looking at her own face as it looked so hollow… it was unbearable.
“Miss DuGray?” came a chirp from the doorway. Anya looked to the speaker. It was her nurse, Patricia Prescott. Anya gave a small smile and nodded to indicate that Nurse Patty was allowed to enter the room. Anya’s smile was polite, but of all the people who could have come in, she hated that it was almost always Nurse Patty. Anya was jealous of Patricia and Anya hated being both sick and jealous. It made her feel pathetic. A sick pathetic ungrateful person, and she hated that even more. Being aware of her jealousy did not make Anya any less jealous of Patricia.
Patricia was beautiful. In fact, she was gorgeous. Her body moved with a ballerina’s grace. Her hands had a gentleness that was like somehow, if she touched someone, all their problems would melt away. Her smile was practically permanent yet, seemed so natural. Her almost red lips pulled back in ease to reveal a kind grin that soothed those around her. Her peach skin made her periwinkle blue eyes stand out strongly but her natural kindness made her gaze gentle and calming. And to her dismay, Nurse Patricia’s light brown hair gleamed with a golden hue with any light, not just the sunlight. It was as if she had a halo just to make her angelic physique that much more instilled in Anya’s mind.
Yet, Anya’s problems would not melt away, she was not soothed, and she could not be calm. Even with such an angelic person with her near her she could not be soothed. It made Anya feel more frustrated than being stuck in bed, more annoyed than having to look out of the window, and having to have such a caring nurse by her side every day.
Why a hospital would hire an angel was beyond Anya’s reasoning. The most she could figure was that maybe Nurse Patricia only worked on the cases with no hope. It would explain why she was Anya’s nurse. Maybe the hospital thought that if an angel nursed the sick, they stood a better chance of getting better. Or maybe it made it easier for the sick to let go of their slipping grip on the world if they knew an angel would walk with them as they left. Either way, Anya felt patronized. But she never complained about her nurse. No. Anya figured, if she were going to die, then the person who could discover her body would be Nurse Patricia Prescott. Maybe then there would be a moment where the nurse would not be smiling.
It was petty, Anya knew, but she was not about to admit it.
