Mom went home a while ago. She didn't want to go, but visiting hours were up and they told her to get the fuck out, basically. She promised she would come back tomorrow. With cake. I tried to smile, but I couldn't seem to even fake it. She kissed me on the forehead and I could barely react - I was just sitting there, mumbling a quiet goodbye.
I look around the ward, somewhere between really fucking miserable and bored. Too many of the people in here are sedated. That's all they do for people. They sedate them, turn them into zombies and say they're cured.
Unsurprisingly, I don't see anyone I know. I'm on my own. Nothing's changed but the scenery. With a sigh, I lift up my shirt and prod the bruises, wondering vaguely if I should be in more pain than I am. Still, I s'pose while I'm here they'll have a chance to heal. I mean, the moment I go back to school, I'll get beat up again, but by then, I'll be as sedated as the rest of the suckers on this ward, so it won't matter.
Still, I get my methadone tomorrow. There's my silver lining. Some silver lining, huh?