Carmen blinked out the tears that were visibly appearing in front of her eyes. Forcing them back, she took a deep shuddering breath before she reached over and clicked on a button near her ECG monitor which had a stick-image of a nurse. Only seconds later, her new ‘care-taker’ buzzed into the room with that fake smile of hers. Or was it genuine? Carmen really couldn’t care less.
“Yes, my dear, do you need anything?”
“I’m hungry,” she answered dully. Accompanying her statement was the rumble of her stomach, though not intentional. The past few days, she’d been fed and kept alive by the glucose drips that the hospital had been giving her. It wasn’t completely satisfactory to one’s appetite but Carmen had another idea in mind.
“Your breakfast is on the way dear,” the nurse “Brenda” answered. Carmen nodded before looking away with no interest really at the screen of the television that played morning cartoons. How many more times was this going to happen?
Another near-death experience, another hospital she’d been placed into. Her orphanage house had already grown sick of her – she knew. They had people watching her in her room to make sure she wouldn’t have another go at killing herself. But Carmen had her ways…and this wasn’t the orphanage
The swish of the metal doors caused her to snap back to attention and she turned to see a male nurse carrying a tray of unappetizing foods. Typical really. Fruit salad, juice, and some brown bread and jam. She’d grown used to this diet: it felt like that’s all Carmen had been eating lately with the frequent visits to the hospital.
Sitting up, she pretended to eat the food, picking at the orange and kiwi slices in her salad and placing them timidly in her mouth. Watching carefully, she waited till the others left the room before setting the fork down. Instead, her eyes redirected itself towards the knife set near the small jam container. A bread-knife: not too sharp but would qualify for a good death if she cut herself deep enough. And this time, she’d do it right.
“These hospitals never learn,” Carmen muttered to herself as she picked the cool metal of the knife and without a second thought, plunged it deep into her skin.
It was at that moment that two things happened. One – the door swung open and an unfamiliar voice called out “no!” Two – taken by surprise, the knife slipped and instead hit the tip of her plastic bowl of fruit salad, causing it to fly through the air and resulting in an uncalled for mess.
Glaring up at her visitor, Carmen felt hatred spread through her as she analyzed him. She’d been sure that this time, it would be her inevitable escape to death, her one-way ticket with no return. But she’d been wrong.
Her hands were perfectly white in their complexion, except for the existing scars. No trace of droplets of deep red blood – the color she’d wanted to see. Nothing. And all because of him.
“Who are you?”