The room
Sometimes it's hard to heal,
but I guess the hard part about healing
is the acceptance of existence.
Accepting that in that hard moment,
you exist.
You are there.
⸻
"Jemmy, hello?"
Voices echo into my ears—familiar voices.
"Doctor! Her fingers just moved!" she says, relieved.
I hear rushy footsteps approaching the left side of my bed.
I try to open my eyes,
but I can't.
I use force,
but my eyelids are heavy,
and I feel weak,
so I don't force
nor try again.
"Jemmy, please open your eyes. Try for me. Try for mummy,"
my mum sobs,
as I hear voices fading away.
"Ma'am, I'm going to need you to leave the room,"
the man insists.
The last thing I hear
is footsteps dissolving beside me.
