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Am I Really Cared For? ((Dark_Times x myself))

poisonedxkisses

poisonedxkisses

Supernova
Joined
Feb 16, 2009
Location
New Jersey
Dahlia entered the psych ward as the nurses escorted her. The 21 year old woman sat down on the gray tattered couch and looked at her feet. Her black hair fell in front of her emerald green eyes, trying to hide the fact she was crying. How could I have failed? she thought solemnly. I was so close to the ultimate goal. She looked around as she saw some of the other patients in the ward. Her mind wandered to think about what each of them were in for. She herself was there for suicidal thoiughts, attempts, and cutting.

She looked behind her at the nurses that escorted her in. They were talking to one of the doctors on staff explaining why she was here. "No one cares anyway." she muttered. She curled her legs up under her legs as she stared at the scars on her pale arms. She began to trace the scars and it started to calm her down. I can't imagine being able to stop... it feels so good to let the pain bleed out. She closed her eyes and fought back the tears that welled up in her eyes.
 
Brendan watched as the new patient was brought in, he was given her file and the nurses gave him a brief overview. He nodded calmly before walking over to her, "Hello Dahlia, how are you feeling today", he sat down across from her with a casual smile on his face.

He hated to see people like this, he had been there once in his life and had never gone back. "My name is Dr. Murray, but you may call me Brendan if you'd like", he smiled at her again, more reassuringly this time, trying to show her that he cared.
 
"Hmmm?" She looked up at him, snapping out of her daze. "How do you think, Brandon." she said a little bitterly, not really meaning to. She hated feeling this way, but no one really cared. She looked back down at her arms, the criss cross of the scars soothing her slightly. "Not only am I a failure in life, I'm a failure in death." She looked up at him.

"But enough about me... how are you doing today?" She moved her legs out from under her and sighed. She had them covered in leggings, ashamed of some of the scars that hid there. She looked at the floor, tapping her foot gently on the carpet.
 
"Me?", he said with a confused look, "Well that's a first, I guess I'm worried", he smiled at her, "Worried about my patients, unlike the other doctors I really do care about each of my patients". He dipped his head and looked at the floor, "Would you like to tell me a little about yourself, then I will tell you something about my life, I think it'll be good if we get to know each other".

Over his years, he'd learned that forming a friendship with his patients allowed for a faster recovery period and an easier follow up. There was something about Dahlia, she had plenty of time ahead of her if she'd only be able to see that people did care, she just hadn't found them yet.
 
"About me, hmm..." she shook her head. "Well, it all started when I was born. Parents really couldn't stand each other afterwards, my mom got hooked on heroin, cocaine. She abandoned me for the drugs until I was six or seven. Then it was alcohol. My dad raised me since I was three, just me and him. Then he remarried when I was twelve, that was my downward spiral. Since then my dad's become an alcoholic, I'm not important to him anymore and my mom and I are really close now. That's the shortened version of it, but we can get into the rest later." she leaned back against the couch and sighed. "Now it's your turn."
 
He leaned forward and spoke quietly, "Well now, my father was a jealous and ignorant man, he sold drugs for a living, my mother died giving birth to me and he blamed me for it.", he was staring straight at her to show there was no lies mixed in here. "So every day, sometimes for no reason he used to beat me, until one day I just ran, didn't stop until I reached the old rail yard, you know the one".

His face bore a grave expression, "I hid out there, begging for change off people when ever I went back into town, until I met a girl my age, thats when things looked up, but about four years ago, we were walking home to her place, and who do we bump into but my father". He went silent and his eyes shimmered slightly, "Long story short, I'm single again and my father is dead, and I'm left with this", he moved his collar to show the faint scar the rope had left him.
 
She looked at his neck and frowned slightly. "So you failed an attempt, too?" she looked away and bit her lip. She leaned against the arm of the couch and sighed. "Makes you feel like shit didn't it?" she said and smirked. "I mean, you start feeling like you can't do anything right, and then you can't take your own life correctly." she scoffed. "Welcome to my personal hell."
 
He chuckled darkly, "Actually, it just made me think that I was not bound for the other side just yet, and you aren't either", he looked straight at her, "I will not fail you, I'm going to show you that your cared for, by even the most unlikely of people".

He wondered if he was getting through to her, "Now, I want you to set a positive goal for the end of the week, and then I'll help you succeed at it", he relaxed back again and cracked his knuckles.
 
She chuckled lightly. "Oh, I see." She shifted slightly, anxiety starting to get to her again. She instinctively traced the scars on her arm and looked down. "And who do you propose, might care?" she asked. When he asked about a positive goal she smirked. "I don't know... maybe just get over this shit." she replied standing and walking to the window, staring out into the courtyard.
 
"I care, about each and every one of my patients", he calmly followed her to the window, "So, by the end of the week you hope to be over all this?, sounds good to me". He turned to face her, "You wanna go for a walk out on the rear green?". He ran a hand through his hair and checked his keys, as the green was off limits to most patients.
 
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