She was small and very thin, I had no doubt in my mind that she was, or at least had been, anorexic before she was forced into this bed.
"Hi." I said sideways, sitting down beside her. Offering no response, she just chewed her lip. Her eyes were the worst. From the moment you saw them, you knew they had seen such immeasurable things that you had to shrink away. They were brown, but they seemed red as her memories burned through. I shuddered.
"I'm Mel." I tried again, blushing slightly.
"So, what should we talk about?"
All at once this girl filled me with anger, even though I had prided myself in never judging people. Who was she to give in to her problems, it wasn't as if she was the only one with them! I had my own. A parents divorce a month ago, a friend moving, another friend who could die. And, of course, there was the accusation pinned against me which I told no one about.
"Do you want to sit here and sulk all your life?" I exploded, "How dare you! There are people worse off than you. Is this what you want?"
Sighing, she reached over to the cabinet and drew out a thick load of paper. Flicking through the pages, she found the one she was looking for and let the papers fall in front of me. I scanned through it. Slowly, it dawned on me that it was a timeline of her life, in doctor note form.
Two years ago, she threw herself off a bridge sustaining a broken arm. A month after she overdosed on sleeping tablets. The next week she sliced her wrists. Two months later she stepped in front of a car. This went on for a page. I felt sick. Instantly I pitied her and despised myself, all she wanted to do was die and not to cause anyone else trouble. Just as I did, only I never showed it. I talked to her for about an hour before the nurse came back in.
"Thank you, I hope you too got on well." She smiled. I didn't.
I just got up. As I got to the door, someone spoke.
"Will you be back?" Came a voice.
"Good. I like you."
For someone who had not spoken in a year, she spoke very clearly, or, at least, she did to me.