One Sick Love Story

This will be updated before Monday. All he commenters so far will be walled when this happens. Thank you all for being patient.

 

Okay.

 

At lunch, Peter sat alone, like always. His best friend, Ben, went to his music lesson, so Peter was left to his own devices. Of course, nobody sat down next to Peter, or asked if he wanted to sit with them. Peter was the outcast. The freak.

He thought about his childhood: all the doctors and hospital appointments, the few times he was taken in an ambulance. All of these things happened at school.

He used to be popular, Peter, he used to be surrounded by loyal friends. This is partially what bought on his anxiety. He began to hate being smothered. During lunch he would have to walk outside, look up at the sky and think: you're not trapped, you're not trapped.

This of course resulted in him loosing all of his friends. Except Ben. Ben was always his second-in-command. Ben understood; he had a sister like Peter. A sister with anxiety.

Just thinking of the past made Peter begin to shake, and soon, he heard a loud clatter. He looked down and saw his knife and fork lying on the floor. Ben was walking over, and then he started running. Peter tasted the familiar salty taste of his own tears in his mouth, and then the edges of his vision were blurred.

He was now hunched over in his chair, heaving. But no vomit would come. He just sat there,  shaking and crying. Shaking and crying. All the other kids were staring at him. Some were whispering. Some were laughing. Others looked concerned.

"Peter. It's okay. Breathe. Breathe."

Then the darkness claimed him.

***

They say it is important to concentrate on your breathing whilst having a panic attack. It was easier said than done.

Once Peter was in the ambulance, there was a mask on his face, so most of the breathing was being done for him. He could feel Kylie's familiar hand on his, and heard a voice over a walkie-talkie.

The ambulance went over a speed bump and Peter felt a pain in his leg. He sat up and saw that his trouser leg was rolled up, and there was a gigantic purple bruise.

Ouch.

"Peter?"

It was Kylie. She touched his shoulder, then moved his face so that he was looking at her.

"It's okay. It's over." She said.

Peter just nodded. He couldn't find the energy to talk.

Luckily, he was in a school less than two miles from the hospital, so they arrived quickly. Peter wasn't rushed through the door like you would see in  a movie, no. They moved him at an average pace, so as not to scare him.

He was put into a lift and taken up to the children's ward, where he was lifted off the bed on wheels and put into a normal hospital bed.

To his left, curtains were drawn around a bed. From the other side of the curtain, Peter could hear somebody talking.

"It's okay, Alli. Really."

Then, a white-coated woman emerged from the curtain and drew it back.

And lying in the bed, wiping vomit from her mouth, was the red-haired girl.




Sorry it's so short! I hope you enjoyed it though. Leave your thoughts down below!

 

I'm not adding people. This is a story.

 

It was her. It was definitely her. It was the red-head from the music huts. She looked the same. Well, almost. Peter studied her closely.

Her collarbone stuck out considerably from her hospital nightgown. Her boney knees - which were up by her chest - were being clutched by her small, delicate hands. Her hair lay limp, lifeless and messy down her back, from which her spine protruded.

She was beautiful.

But skinny. God, she was skinny.

She stared back at Peter, and he could see the faint gleam of recognition in her brilliant green eyes. She still had a slight vomit stain on her nightgown, but Peter didn't mind. He was used to sights like this.

The woman who was helping the red-head set down her file on the table between the two beds. Peter glanced at the name on the front.

Allison Mary Bruce.

The woman started talking to Peter, but all he saw was her mouth moving. His mind was full of Allison Bruce. The mystery girl with the red hair.

Allison lay her legs flat on the bed and stared back at him. He raised his eyebrows; she raised hers. He smiled. She didn't. He made a pleading face, and then he saw the right corner of her mouth go up slightly.

"Okay?" The woman doctor said to Peter.

Without looking at her, he replied "Okay."

Kylie sat down on the edge of Peter's bed, and he finally tore his gaze away from Allison Bruce. Kylie's normally straight hair had a slight tousled wave effect to it. It had a healthy shine. Peter saw a pink strap from underneath her vest-top.

Then he realised. She was supposed to be at the beach after school. He had stolen her evening.

"I'm going to get a coffee." She announced, and stood up.

"You can go, you know." Peter replied. Kylie replied with a look of annoyance, which clearly meant "no."

She walked off out of the ward.

Allison was sitting up properly now, and Peter could see a piece of paper lying next to her. The heading read 'Dietry Plan for Miss Allison Mary Bruce'.

Peter then glanced at her hand and saw a cannula attached. There was a vase of flowers on the bedside table. Clothes were spilling out of the small cupboard.

"Can I help you?" She asked.

Peter immediately snapped back to reality. Her voice sounded like a song. A good song. With a great melody.

"N-," Peter stammered, then spoke without thinking. "Why do you have a dietry plan?"

She looked  offended for a second, then grabbed the sign from the end of her bed and passed it to him.

'Allison Bruce. Anorexia Nervosa. Hospital resident.'

That explained the clothes spilling out from the wardrobe. And the immense slightness of her body. She was Anorexic.

"What's wrong with you?" The melodic voice spoke again.

"Severe anxiety and panic disorder." Replied Peter.

Allison nodded.

"My brother-" She began, but was then cut short by a loud snore from the patient opposite.

Peter raised his eyebrows, and Allison burst out laughing. So did Peter.

They laughed for a while, then Peter asked something that he should have asked before.

"Why were you at my school?"

"I hate the hospital school room. So my mother teaches me here. I have to hand in my work to the school the  discuss it with them." She explained, pulling her hair into a messy bun on top of her head.

"Oh." Peter said.

That explained everything.

"What's your name?" She asked.

"Peter. Peter McGregor."

"Well, Peter. Peter McGregor,  I will see you around."

Then, she got up, grabbed her drip bag, and walked off down the corridor.

Wow.





Okay. I know this one was bad, but I have a lot to do at the moment. This probably won't be updated until about Saturday, but keep the comments coming. What do you think will happen next?

 

This will be updated soon. I promise.