Listen, she’d start. I was just sad, you know. Really sad. I have been sad for a really long time. You have seen me, right? Some days my body feels so heavy I can’t even get up from the bed. It feels like with each passing hour my body becomes denser, and I sink slowly into the foam of the bed, past that into the wood and then into the floor. I fall down into the earth. I’m so very sorry you had to see me like that. I’m sorry you had to do what you did. But really, you should have left me alone. Haha, just kidding. I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
She wakes up and asks herself is this going to be the day. An hour of staring at the noisy street below, in the end she decides not yet, not yet, she still has some things to do. So she walks across the empty room, past her disheveled bed to the huge mirror with the low table in front, to comb her hair. She starts the count – from a hundred to zero. While she combs she stares at herself, stares at herself until she no longer recognizes her features. Until this person staring back at her becomes a complete and total stranger. “Hello” the pale girl with the long black hair, dark lines under both eyes, says to her.
The place smelled of chlorine and alcohol. It was cold but stuffy. She remembers staring at the fluorescent light after a long restful sleep. The fluorescent light was way up on the high ceiling. The room was tiny but the window almost covered the upper-half of the wall. The windows opened onto a central garden where tropical plants grew unchecked. The walls surrounding the central garden were covered by a climbing vine. The vine held the most beautiful violet flowers. She wanted to go out there and pick some, but looking at the damp ground filled with leaves of trees browning and decaying, made the idea suddenly so abhorrent. So she laid back on the bed and stared at the pale light. The low electric humming which filled the room lulled her back to sleep.
Fee injected insecticide into the big vein of her left arm. Her hand was shaking a bit as she squeezed the plunger of the syringe. ‘Fascinating,’ she thought as the liquid entered her bloodstream. She drank cleaning fluid afterwards. She chugged about half the contents of the bottle. When she burped, her breath smelled like roses.
“Let’s wait a couple more days to see if we’re going to have to amputate,” the doctor said. She did not know whether to laugh or cry. Her housemate was with her. Her housemate stared at her silently. Fee’s attention was captured by the bright light of the recovery ward’s lamp. The doctor continued saying that she was in a coma for three days. They operated on her arm. He told her she was lucky she did not penetrate the vein with the needle. What happened was she missed and injected the insecticide into her muscle. They had to cut off a huge chunk of flesh from her forearm. Her housemate found her covered in her own vomit. She was brought to the hospital immediately.
Fee’s housemate stood beside her for a while once the doctor continued on his round. She could not look at her housemate, she felt so terrible. “I’m going now,” her housemate said. She stood up and took her coat off the chair beside the bed. She managed a glance at her back as she exited the ward. Fee started to think. Maybe saying sorry is not the right way to start.