All in my Mind

XXVII.

I saw a bee in my room for the first time.

It flew around aimlessly for a little while, like it was lost. It hadn't ever happened before, so I wasn't sure how to react. I just stared between it and the bee catcher hanging from the ceiling while it circled the room. I almost wished I could open the window, like maybe it would get out. Even then, frozen in fear, I wasn't sure how I'd manage to get the window open. It hadn't opened in so long. Was that even something I could do? Could I really get myself to move through the panic... to help a bee?

And didn't I have a bee catcher for the exact opposite of that? Think about the compassion something like that must have elicited from someone. I don't even remember it being placed in my room, but someone had done that for me. It had been a gift hadnt it? Someone saw me feral and scared and struggling. Someone listened when I talked about a terribly irrational fear. They had to know I was delusional, but they'd procured this thing for me anyways.

They gifted me pointless peace of mind.

I should have taken that bee as a bad omen. I shouldn't have just watched it fly around. I shouldn't have let my heart start racing like it did. I shouldn't have have let it occupy so much of my senses.

I just watched it in a strange mix of fascination and terror and confusion for such a long time. It was dark out already. It had been dark for a while. It wasn't even the right time for bees to be out wandering indoors.

I wasn't able to look away from it until Hoggle came. He wandered into the room out of the shadows and met me where I was on the floor. He gave me that same expectant look he always gave me when I refused to go to sleep. Eventually I relented to allow him to guide me from the floor over to my bed. I laid down. He laid next to me. I felt the silent comfort of his presence as I drifted into unconsciousness; away from him and away from the bee.

Neither of them were real. My dead dog wasn't any more literal than the bee.

The dog just always seemed to show up when I was on the verge of the worst parts. He was like that before I killed him too. He was always willing to keep trying for me. He was always persistent.

I had dreams that night for what felt like the first time in a really long time. I don't want to tell you about them, so I won't. They weren't fun dreams. They were dark and scary and remnicient of things I'd forget if my mind would let me. The dog being there just didn't help.

I woke up alone with blood on my forearms from clawing at myself. Nurse Taylor was concerned about that when she did her morning check in, but she was more concerned that I had a fever. I'd had one on and off since I'd stopped taking the pills, but this one was high like it had been on the day I threw up on the floor.

She told me to stay in bed and I gratefully complied.

This was only a day after that thing that happened with Lily. I'm talking about the crying thing; the thing where I didn't walk away when I normally would have walked away. I wish I hadn't done that. I especially wished I hadn't touched her.

Afterwards, she'd stopped crying, but she hadn't gone back to normal. She was still closed off and quiet and mopey. I walked her to her room eventually. I'd never been to her room but it was busier than mine. She had more things in there. Her window opened and her walls were plastered in the drawings she'd made.

I think she wanted me to stay, but I didn't. I'd come back to my room and spent the rest of the time obsessing over a bee.

The fever got worse throughout the day. Nobody told me it was getting worse, but that much was pretty evident given the way the nurses would look at me after each check in. They seemed to be coming in hourly, but I couldn't tell. Time felt a little warped. It was hard to focus.