That Girl Is Poison (28 page)

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Authors: Tia Hines

BOOK: That Girl Is Poison
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“What's so wrong with how I'm living my life?”
“You're popping pills, sleeping around, school is a joke, you been in lockup for the entire summer. You—”
“Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. Spare me the lecture. Okay, Jen.”
“Desire, I'm serious.”
“And I am too. Now let's talk about what's going to happen when I come home.”
“If it's not legit or helping you, then count me out. I'm through. I can't.”
“You can't what? You can't help your best friend?”
“Help my best friend do what? Run herself into the ground? You ain't in this hospital for a measly asthma attack or an annual checkup. You almost died from getting stabbed. Desire, are you not here with me? Take a look at your life.”
“Yeah. My life. Don't knock the hustle.”
“What is with this stupid talk? You get stabbed and now you think you're an
O.G.
?”
I grinned at her comment. “Jen, lighten up. What's with you? I come home from lockup and you're trippin'.”
“Hell yeah, I'm trippin', Desire. You almost died. Doesn't that scare you?”
I thought about it for a moment. “Nah, it doesn't.”
“I'm not talking to a sane person here. I gotta go.”
I looked at Jen's back as she turned it on me and walked out of my room upset. I couldn't blame her for feeling the way she did, but she'd never have understood, best friend or not. I wanted to tell her the truth. Believe me, I did, but I couldn't. I just couldn't.
I needed to think. I was letting these people get to me. I didn't need help. I needed to get out of here so I could get back on track. I was losing sight of my mission. These people, they're getting in my way. I couldn't have that.
I couldn't even think right now. What was the number of people I'd infected? Damn, I didn't know. But I knew this. I was feeling like I hadn't even started yet.
Okay, okay. Let me calm down.
I was getting too excited. I needed to close my eyes for a minute. Then when I opened them, I was going to get up, get myself together, and check myself out of this joint.
I got more people to infect.
Chapter 30
I woke up and saw a bunch of people in my room. I panicked.
Oh shit. What they found out? Who told?
I looked to see who was in here. Ms. Tanner was amongst the many, my doctor, my ex-probation officer, my damn deadbeat mother, and some lady I had never seen before a day in my life.
What the hell is going on here?
I was sure my mother had something to do with this. I sat myself up in the bed.
“Desire, you're up? Glad to see you alert. How'd you sleep?” the doctor asked.
“What's going on? Why y'all here? What y'all doing here?” I smelled trouble.
“I came to give you some good news,” the doctor announced. “And the others have to follow up on what I have to tell you.”
“What?” I asked, not really understanding him.
“Just bear with us. You're going to be discharged in a few days pending your stability level, and that's why Dr. Shuman is here. She's a psychologist.”
So that's who the lady is. They still think I'm crazy. I got their number.
“Good evening, Desire,” she greeted.
I didn't greet her back.
“Desire, the woman is speaking to you,” my mother intervened.
“I'm not deaf.”
“Desire, these people are here to help you. You need to show more respect.”
“Everybody just get out! Get out! I'm not crazy! Nothing's wrong with me! Just get out!” My breathing grew heavy.
The doctor ordered everyone to follow my orders, everyone except the shrink.
“Slow down with your breathing. It's okay. Calm yourself. Breathe in and out, in and out slowwwwly,” my doctor coached.
I continued to breathe heavy, wanting the shrink to leave too. I didn't want her to see me like this. She'd really think I was crazy. I wasn't though. I was just in pain. There was a pain every time I took heavy breaths.
“Ouch!”
“Yes, kiddo, it hurts. That's why I said breathe in and out slowly,” the doctor reminded.
I did as I was told, trying to bear the pain. It began to ease up. The breathing techniques actually worked.
“Good girl. Your vitals are stable now,” the shrink lady said.
“You have to keep your cool, kiddo. Try not to get yourself excited like that. The heavy breathing expands your lungs and leads to sharp, uncomfortable pains, which in turn raise your blood pressure. We need to keep your blood pressure stable if you ever want to get out of here.”
I nodded my head to acknowledge her advice.
“Does your mother's presence bother you?” the shrink asked.
I didn't answer, but took a heavy breath, which indicated the answer was definitely yes.
“Remember, breathe slow, Desire. I need you to be comfortable.”
I sat there reverting back to the good breathing techniques I had just learned. My doctor came over and did his routine checkup.
Dr. Shuman chatted with me about things other than my life, which was great, and I actually liked the conversation. She didn't question me about my feelings, or the reason why I was in the hospital at all. It was just general conversation. She talked the entire time the doctor did his thing. Then they both left together.
The doctor assured he'd be back in an hour to check up on me. The shrink mentioned nothing about coming back at all. I thought she got the impression that I was sane, and not crazy, like those other miserable people thought I was. At least I was hoping I left that impression. That was the plan.
“Hello,” a nurse barged in, interrupting my thoughts.
“Hi.”
“I'm here to remove your bandages.”
“Completely?” I asked excitedly.
“Yup, completely. Your wounds need to breathe. I'm going to need you to bear with me because this may hurt a little. If you need a break, just give me a sign by raising your hand.” She started with the bandage on the left side of my face.
Hurt a little? This joint is excruciating.
“Erghhh-hhh,” I groaned, raising my hand. Breathing heavy and feeling the sharp pain in my chest, I started my breathing techniques.
“Wait, let me get you another dose of pain medicine.” She pressed the button calling the nurses' station. “Bring me twenty milligrams of Roxanol for patient Jones.”
The nurse arrived in no time with the Roxanol.
“What's that?” I asked.
“A pain medicine equivalent to morphine. It's just a little stronger than morphine. I'm just going to recline your bed to avoid you becoming nauseated.”
The nurse let me lay for a few minutes before resuming with taking off my bandages. This time the process was smooth sailing, and I was definitely high.
“You're all set. I have a mirror, if you want to take a peek at yourself. You seem to be healing pretty well.”
“Yes, I'd like to see.”
The nurse handed me a mirror, and I looked at my face. This wasn't me. It couldn't have been. I looked so different. I looked ugly. I looked deformed. My face looked distorted.
Who's going to want to sleep with me now? No, this can't be. I can't leave here with my face looking like this.
I threw the mirror at the wall across the room and heard the glass break on impact. The nurse backed up a bit.
“I know it looks bad now, but that's only because your wounds are still very fresh. Don't worry, sweetie. Everything will be okay.”
“Fuck that! Do you see my face?” I yelled.
“Sweetie, calm down. It only looks like that now because your face is still swollen and the stitches have not dissolved.”
“I look ugly,” I cried.
I was crushed. I certainly didn't expect to look in the mirror and see what I saw. My face was pushed to one side like I had suffered a stroke. On top of that, my face was swollen like a balloon, and I had this long line of stitches. My lips looked like I had collagen injections, and the corners of my mouth looked like the stitching on a football. I looked just like Frankenstein.
“Calm down. Let the medicine relax you.”
Again, I started my breathing techniques.
“Hey, can I talk to her for a second?”
I looked over to see who the familiar voice belonged to, and it was Ms. Tanner. I forgot she was waiting in line. I quickly turned away, so she couldn't see my horrible face.
“Go away. I don't want any visitors.”
“I'm not visiting. I'm on business.”
“Well, it figures. Why else would you be here?”
“Desire, you will be leaving here in about two days, and you are due to come back to lockup.”
“No, I did my time,” I stated firmly.
“Not quite.”
“Not quite? I—”
“Listen before you get upset. That day when you told me what happened to you, well, I now know that you were telling the truth. I'm sorry I didn't believe you, and I'm sorry that you had to experience something so traumatic.”
I looked up at the ceiling, not wanting to relive the horrible moment.
“Desire, I truly am sorry.”
Tears welled up in my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. Me being me, of course, you know, trying to be tough, I acted nonchalant, trying to avoid the pain. I wiped my eyes.
“Yeah. Well, things happen, right?”
“Desire, no, it shouldn't have happened.”
“But it did, and I'm over it.”
“Listen, I'm willing to take this all the way if—”
“Forget it happened. Just forget it.”
“This is too serious to just—”
“Please, just forget it.”
“It's not right though.”
“But it's better for me, and much better if we kill the conversation. Why are you here?”
“A week was added to your time at the center.”
“What? I did my—”
“Wait, just listen. I worked it out so that you don't have to come back to the center.”
“Should I be happy, or is there a catch?”
“You have to make up the time with community service.”
“Figures.”
“It's not that bad.”
“Yeah, well, your face doesn't look like this. You don't have to go out in public looking like Frankenstein. Community service . . . that's . . . that's . . . look at my face.”
“Desire, you are a beautiful girl inside, and that's what counts. Your outside appearance doesn't make you.”
I was silent. She'd brought a tear to my eye. Greg had told me that.
Dang, Greg. I forgot about Greg.
“And, plus, you made good friends before you left because of your personality.”
I thought about the facility and the girls, my blood sisters. Damn! I had done them wrong for a purpose though. For a purpose.
Yeah, I gotta get out of here.
“I'm with the community service.”
“I thought you would be.” Ms. Tanner smiled.
 
 
Today was my first day of community service, and I was mad that I had to report to this crappy nursing home every day after school. Yeah, I was back in school—eleventh grade.
My face was back to normal, and I wasn't trippin' no more. I had a large scar on the left side of my face, but it wasn't bad looking. It was actually kind of cute. The guys in school dug it, and that's really all that mattered. I was back in full effect, baby.
“Excuse me, Desire?”
“Yes.”
“Hi. I'm Jane Malloy, your supervisor.”
“Hello.”
“Glad to have you.”
“Glad I'm here,” I lied.
“Good. First things first. I want to go over a few things with you. Your daily assignments will be right here in this basket with your name on it. For the most part, you will be checking the rooms and making sure that everyone is where they're supposed to be. Occasionally, you may have to lead a game or something, but I'll let you know when that happens.
“I see you have a cell phone. Unfortunately, we are not allowed to use them in the building. They interfere with the electronic equipment, including patient monitors. So, for this reason, you will need to turn it off before entering the building each day.”
Dang! No cell phone?
“A'ight.”
“Soooo, you understand everything?”
“Yup.”
“All right, here you go.” She handed me the sheet with my assignment for the day.
I looked it over and got right on my first task. The first order of duty was to check with the fourth- and fifth-floor residents to make sure they were signed up for an activity on Thursday.
The first woman I met with talked me to death. I heard stories about her children, grandchildren, and then about her husband, who put her in this home. She drove me crazy, so I can imagine what she was doing to her husband. She was hilarious though. I had to tell Jen about her. I knew I wasn't supposed to use my cell phone, but this story was too funny to hold out on until later. I hadn't laughed this hard in a while.
I dialed her up before going into the next room.
“Bitch, please. I'm in this hellhole with these old-ass people for another hour,” I said, talking real loud.
“Could you watch the cursing, miss,” some old man said.
I couldn't even get in his room before he's ordering me around.
The elderly, I tell you.
I kept on with my conversation, ignoring his comment.
“Jen, this shitty ol' guy didn't just tell me to stop fucking cursing,” I whispered into the phone, loudly emphasizing the curse words.
“That was two more swears I heard,” he informed.
Being the smart-ass I was, I continued to curse. “Who fucking cares what you heard?”
“That would make five total.”
“Well, count these.
Shit
, seven,
fuck
, eight,
muthafucka
, nine.”
I laughed, and Jen laughed, telling me to stop being disrespectful.
“I see things have not changed,” the old man said.
I finally directed my full attention toward the old man, getting ready to tell him off. “You don't know me to say”—I quickly lost grip of my phone, and it hit the floor. I thought I was going to faint.
I walked over toward him as he lay in the bed. He stared at me with tears in his eyes.

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