Her Angel

Malcolm sat up in the hospital bed, light streaming into his eyes. When he tried to lift his arm to his face, he found he couldn’t. His arms wouldn’t move. He lowered his gaze down to his arms, he felt nothing, just an uncomfortable numb sensation. Both of his forearms were wrapped in thick gauze, and just moving them an inch used lots of his strength. He must have cut deep. He closed his eyes and tried to get comfortable on the hard bed. From experience, he knew he just had to wait it out in bed until they let him leave, answering all their questions positively so they wouldn’t keep him.

Time passed unimaginably slowly, seconds feeling like minutes and minutes feeling like hours. To occupy his time he counted the tiles on the ceiling again and again. There were 49. He counted them from left to right, right to left, top to bottom, and bottom to top. When he grew tired of that, he strained his neck to look outside the window. There was a pretty field outside, flower bushes lining the edges of it. Against each wall were two or three benches. Most were unoccupied, except for the few that had smokers. Each of them sat alone, they hindered the appearance of the courtyard, giving it a grey tint with each drag of their cigarettes. He could make out the features of the man closest. His short hair was greying and you could see the beginnings of wrinkles. He looked miserable. The man took another drag and turned to look in his direction. Too tired to look away, Malcolm let their eyes meet. His eyes were so dark, so void of life. They were like blackholes, if you stared too long you’d be dragged into them.

He swallowed thickly and turned away. He knew eyes like that, he saw them every day in the mirror. They were sickening to see on his own face, let alone someone else’s.

The sounds of quick steps echoed through the door. They grew louder and soon his door was being pushed open.

The girl that walked in was oddly dressed, nothing like a doctor. She dressed quite casual, a tight grey shirt tucked into a short skirt, with a hooded jacket on top. The strangest part about her outfit though, were her hands. They were both wrapped in bandages, from wrist to the tips of each finger. Maybe she was another patient then, that didn’t explain why she was here though.

“Hi.”

She smiled at him and lifted one of her bandaged hands for a wave. He looked up at her face. Her skin seemed to be the lightest tone he’d ever seen and her hair was about the same. Part of her hair was tied up, keeping it out of her face, except for two strands. Tying her hair was a pretty pink ribbon. At first glance, you could say she was attractive, but if you looked closer, you could see the jagged scars across her cheek.

As he stared at her expression, he couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable. There was something wrong with it. Her smile was normal, not too small or big and didn’t show her teeth. But something was wrong with it. Maybe it was her eyes. He’d never seen eyes quite like that before. They seemed to be a mix of pink and blue, the blue surrounding the pupil and merging into the pink at the edges. They were quite beautiful, but still something was off. There was something disturbing about them.

He looked away, and down at her many necklaces. They were all silver with different gems weighing them down. One crystal was particularly larger than the rest. It was milky, softly coloured and oblong. The bright hospital lights reflected different pale colours along the gem. Malcolm recognised it, but couldn’t remember the name.

“Hi?”

He responded to her questioningly. He couldn’t work out why she’d be there, until he saw her lanyard. It was the same green as every other doctor’s at the hospital.

“Why are you here?”

She grinned at him and walked closer, taking a seat uncomfortably close to him.

“Your doctor sent me to check up on you, you’ve been asleep for a whiiiiiile.”

She used her hands to emphasise the word ‘while.’

Malcolm shifted himself up in his bed and played with a loose strand in his bandages. He didn’t know how to respond, he just wanted to leave.

“How long?”

He kept pulling at the string, watching it unravel painfully slow.

“Two days. They tried to get some family to come but I guess they didn’t want to see you.”

She says that in an odd tone, there was slight sympathy but it felt weird coming from her. He stopped picking at it to look at her face again.

“They don’t normally come. And... if you don’t mind me asking, why did my doctor send you? You don’t seem to be a nurse.”

“That’s because I’m not, I’m a volunteer. We don’t normally get to talk to patients alone but I’ve been here a while, so they trust me. And I’m here to make sure you’re alright”

Her smile widened and she leaned forward on her seat.

“I’m fine. When can I leave?”

“Oh, so you’re in a hurry to leave. Well I can’t really answer that, but I do know you’re gonna have to be checked by the psychiatrist before you go.”

He looked down, back at his hands and pulled harder on the string. He didn’t want to talk to the psychiatrist. It was always the same, ‘Why did you do it?’ ‘What can we do?’ ‘Do you have a support system in place?’

If he said the truth they’d keep him longer so he lied and they’d say they’ll see if they can push him up on the waiting list for therapy. Either the list was really long or they were lying because he’s been ‘pushed up’ that list five times in the last three years and he still hasn’t started therapy.

“I’ve spoken to a few psychiatrists, I don’t think it will be necessary”

He smiles at her for the first time and tries to look sincere. She just leans back and lifts her hands.

“It’s out of my hands but I can tell your doctor, if you like?”

He nods his head, she matches his smile. After a moment, she breaks the silence.

“Hey Malcolm... You don’t have to answer, but why did you do that?”

She gestures to his wrists, her smile gone.

He looks down at them and mulls over the question. He’d cut them really badly with one of his craft knives, he doesn’t know if he was just cutting or trying to end it all. Most of the time it was both, slice a few lines to feel better and leave them, see if he dies or not. He doesn’t think that’s a good response though. He could give her his life story, tell her that he wanted to join his mum. But he doesn’t even think he’s trying to do that, he’d just be better off dead. He wouldn’t say he’s a bad person but he gives nothing. There would be no good or bad impact if he died, life would keep going without him, unchanged. Maybe he could say he craves the peace, the tranquillity of death. No worries or fears. Just nothing.

“It was an accident.”

“Cuts like that aren’t accidents. They were self infli-”

“I mean I didn’t mean to... to almost die, I just wanted to feel it.”

He sees something flash in her eyes, it looks almost like excitement. But quickly it’s overshadowed with sympathy and curiosity.

“What did you want to feel?”

He wanted to feel pain. To feel close to his mum. Close to death. Feel euphoric. An end to the constant noise. Constant sadness.

“Just to feel better. To feel.. that peace after. The noise stops and I feel amazing.”

She looks concentrated for a moment, staring at him up and down. He can’t help but avert his eyes and fiddle with the string again.

She stops after a minute and smiles at him again.

“I recognise you.”

“You do?”

“Yeah I do. I’ve seen you around uni a few times. D’you go to the university here?”

“Yes, I haven’t seen you at all though.”

He looks at her confused and she only grins more.

“Well I’m pretty sure we do very different degrees, I’ve just explored the campus a lot and I never forget a face.”

He feels more unsettled than confused now. He wondered when she could have seen him, what he was doing. He was only on campus for lectures, seminars and a rare meet up with friends.

“What degree d’you do then?”

“Biology, though I take some art classes as well. What do you do?”

“English literature and history.”

She stands up from her seat and walks towards the door.

“I hope to see you around then Malcolm.”

She gives him one more wave and leaves.