Page 91 of Her Sloth

She might die.

“There is hope, hope I am not willing to give up on. We have noticed that the connections with loved ones help patients to overcome this state and heal faster, which is why I am coming to you.”

Connection with loved ones.

Addy doesn’t love me.

My body becomes rigid.

And I withdraw into my inner world.

One I never look at unless there is nowhere else to go.

And right now, there is nothing left.

No car I can speed.

No roof I can retract to.

Nowhere to escape to.

“I can take you to her,” says the doctor.

“No,” I say and avert my eyes to a point in the corner of the dull room. “I’m not the one she needs.”

“What makes you so sure?” asks the doctor.

I scoff. The question is so obscene to me after everything Addy and I went through.

“Tell me,” says the doctor. “Because you seem awfully confident in your decision.”

I look at her. The doctor with the perfect hair, looking at me with her innocent eyes, probably coming from a family of doctors, where the biggest problem is which hospital for a residency she’d pick.

I scoff again.

She touches my arm.

Smiles weakly.

“Think about it,” she says. “It matters.”

“Nothing matters,” I say. “Nothing matters if you have been broken so many times that love is a word that causes the only pain you can feel.”

With that, I lay back into the bed with a desire to disappear.

“I’m sorry,” says the doctor. “I’m sorry for everything you had to go through.”

I scoff in disbelief. “As if you understand.”

And suddenly there is all this anger in me.

Anger about the world.

Anger about myself.

Anger about being helpless.

Anger about losing everything once again.