". . . we'll contact you, thank you," the lady said, her voice so smooth and low, not convincing me of anything which I hadn't already come into conclusion of–I wasn't getting the job.
I hadn't yet decided just what I felt about this.
I didn't know why she had to lie so politely, I was no fool.
I could see it in her eyes, I wasn't necessarily fitting to their 'elegant' aesthetic or their image, they were just not going to share this.
I didn't get why not.
I did my very best to not show her the tears I sort of felt prickling the back of my sockets.
There was a nice pot plant by her desk, I laid my eyes on it as if I could hear the rest of her words, leading myself to my feet.
I even offered her a smile.
It had been evident the moment I had stepped into their foyer, with their marble floors and their modern style building with a light minimalistic touch grandly finished with those soft colored plants and flowers, which hung in the air so freshly.
I had sort of felt so small and tired, my feet aching.
I didn't know why this time, but I was upset.
I just refused to show it before this lady.
The sound of my shoes sort of mocked me out of those doors and this had been my last option, but no person who had ever offered me such a look had ever phoned.
I had no job and at this point, I felt this.
I probably had to move back to my old room and try to get back on the horse of being a waitress, maybe even of hope.
If last year hadn't happened, maybe if I hadn't chosen to gamble away my whole life over a guy, then maybe I would be working my way through my old company–I had wasted my life. I felt so bitter I probably was wearing it all over myself, my shoes felt so heavy. I just wanted to get out of there. I no longer wanted to dwell on it.
I just couldn't help the way I was feeling currently.
I dragged myself to the elevator, unable to keep my head held high at this point–I felt that even the walls were having a ball laughing at my misfortunes.
There was this slightly cooler air that covered the whole place, it was so fresh I just wanted to cry.
I wanted to just drop right there and there and weep, it sounded so much better than trying to keep myself from doing so.
I didn't know why but I just wanted to cry my eyes out, maybe it was to make me feel better than that lady's words.
I didn't even know why she had to pity me.
I felt my palms were no longer that sweaty.
I had been sort of hopeful, I had no idea why, but this I felt I didn't deserve actually.
I had even painted my nails a nice shade of blue, but there hadn't been any use.
I felt the elevator was just getting further away from me the more I needed it.
I didn't know how I was going to deal with my family either, I didn't need them telling me just how okay things were going to get–I needed my bed. I hated my apartment, but it was better than having to go to my mother's place to be pitied, I preferred wallowing in self-pity better.
I already was sure of what I was to do as soon as I got home–ice cream and some sappy movie. I wasn't so sure of which one, but I just wished to not feel so tiny. I just wanted to forget my manager too. I guess I wasn't having the best time so far and, to be honest, I was sure my body had weighed so heavily in their eyes. I didn't know why but I really felt hot as if my whole body was burning and my chest, and it slowly began to tighten itself in, sort of. The tiny distance to the elevator sort of widened right before my slightly blurry eyes, my knees beginning to feel so wobbly.
There were small sharp flickers of light washing over me slowly, my body beginning to lose out on me–I felt so light.
My heart was beating a beat behind, I sort of couldn't breathe.
I might have held on to the wall to my left, trying to lead myself to the elevator as best as I could as the room began to encircle around me, stiffly, and pressed me further into the approaching blurp of the abyss.
My small hands could barely keep me upright, I felt so heavy.
I just wanted some air, whilst some part of me screamed so desperately for me to just breathe in through my nose–I just couldn't. My chest tightened and shut the air in as my hands gave in, just as I stepped into the elevator or, better yet, fell.
Then the world sort of quieted down for me.
•••
I pried my eyes open at the sound of a beeping monitor as the dry stench of heavy cleaning chemicals and pills stirred me awake, hanging in the air quite sharply as it penetrated my nostrils.
The cool room slightly offering my spine a chill as I forced myself to sit up.
The pale and gloomy-looking gown, which I was clothed in, sort of creased as it hovered itself along my thick hips quite stiffly. This kind of disturbance was only pulled out of me by one other thing or, better yet, place, which I had hoped to never see ever again–the hospital.
There was this pale florescent light landing from the distant window, coming to meet my eyes quite pitifully as I led my arms to myself–folding them.
I felt as if the entire world had just abandoned me there on that hospital bed, leaving me to this empty cold that was crawling right down my spine, reminding me of things that I just wanted to forget, like myself.
I shut my eyes as I tried to swallow, an attempt to moisten my throat.
My mouth felt so uncomfortably snug as I brought my hand to my hair absentmindedly, confronting my messy hair.
I sighed as I led my shaky fingers to my arm, resting my fingernails a bit on the tape which held the tube in place, right against my arm tightly and the needle was snuggled right into my vein, pumping whatever was in that IV drip straight to my body.
The monitor was beeping uncomfortably close.
I yanked that rigidly crisp hospital sheet close to myself just out of the need for comfort, begging my head not to travel to where it begged to.
I felt exposed as I shut my eyes.
'Gracie? What's wrong?' his voice was so difficult to reach as it strangely echoed further from me.
I had my hand pressed desperately against my full belly, lips as heavy as my eyes felt–soaked with tears.
I could barely move from where I felt glued.
'I–I think. . .t-the b-baby's hurt,' I stuttered, fingers painted crimson as they fisted the material of my dress rigidly.
'Gracie. . ."
"Gracie?"
"Huh?" I lifted my head to find a pair of troubled eyes.
I parted my lips to let out a breath–I was there.
I was glad to see my older sister who was currently staring at me a bit warily, I followed where her eyes were and I immediately unglued my fingers from where they rested–it was all gone.
I sat up suitably as I laid my hands against my lap, wiping my palms, which weren't that damp, against that slight bit cool hospital sheet. "Are you here by yourself?"
My sister rolled her eyes as she sighed heavily. "Yeah, I didn't want them to worry."
"You sure?"
"This heat's getting to you," she said, shaking her head.
I offered her a sorry smile. "I'm sort of beat."
"You're taking this job thing too hard, Gracie," she said, eyeing the tube stuffed into my vein with this very uneasy look inside her eyes.
I hated pity, this was just not the place for it.
"It's the heat, I'll be fine," I said.
My sister sat close to the edge of the bed. "You're not ready for this."
I felt the tears prickle my sockets as I turned away from hers, clenching my teeth together as I struggled not to tread over the pangs which had been laid to rest and were now being dragged out so cruelly.
I tried to lift my eyes but I failed, I just couldn't look at my sister.
"I know this is hard for you," she said, hand clasped over mine so very gently.
I felt as if she was just mocking me with her pity, it bothered me as I dug the very tips of my fingernails right into my hot palm.
I swallowed, shoving the sob down my throat.
"I'm fine, Sis," I said, every word heavy as a breath sort of brushed out of my lips softly.
"I don't think so, the doctor said you need to get some rest and–"
"I don't have a job, I'll rest when I get it."
I watched as my sister took a deep breath. "Okay, I'll help then."
"How? I'm not going to go work for my own–"
"You're so against working with Gabe, it's kind of offensive." My sister brushed her shiny caramel blonde hair behind her pierced ear, her hand still clasped over mine.
I, on the other hand, probably looked a bit paler and I already was aware of the condition in which my hands were in, though I doubted I truly cared enough about this.
I just wanted to leave, I didn't want to stay there any more than I had already done and I didn't care what a doctor was to say to me, I just hated the entire place.
My sister's presence sort of made things better but not right, unfortunately, so I just remained feeling so exposed as I sat up on that bed. I was struggling to stop the sharp coolness which sat in the room from shoveling itself any further into my skin, from sowing itself against my spine.
I had to leave it there, I was to force it all in.
I had no space for it in my life.
I guess I had promised myself the last time I had been lying there that I wouldn't return unless I truly had to, I guess I had promised myself the impossible.
I guess I had lied to myself somehow, I was so awful.
I felt some movement in my stomach, I buried my nails harshly into the palm of my hand as I shut my eyes.
I could hear myself scream behind my thoughts, a day I couldn't ever forget even if I wanted to flash before my eyes, woven into my insides so unfortunately deep.
"Gracie?" my sister's voice was even softer.
"I'm fine. . .I'm great," I said, not even looking at her as I brought my fingers to the medical tape pulling the tube hooked to my arm, my heart practically in my throat as I blinked rapidly trying not to cry. "I don't want to stay here any longer."
"Gracie, you're hurting yourself!"
I stopped, crimson coating my fingertips generously.
I pressed my hand against the wound, feeling rather stupid for even pulling it in the first place, the morning beeping too much.
"I didn't mean to," I said, curling my fingers into my palm.