The doctors drained a litter of fluid out of my stomach the next day. They said they took most of it out and I'd be due for another scan soon. That meant I'd be here most likely for the week. 

 When I got back to my room, I immediately texted my brother. "You okay? I thought you said she stopped drinking?" 

"She thinks you won't get out. She's been acting distant." He said.

"She seemed so happy and fine when she visited me," I texted back.

"I don't know. She's been acting off. And looking at pictures at dad a lot," he responded.

Our father died from a stroke four years ago and our mother never coped well with his lost. She pretends he's on a long vacation. When I was admitted into the hospital, I thought that was her last drink. My brother had said when I got sick, she swore she'd sober up if the surgery went well. But something happened. Something triggered her to drink. I couldn't help to think that it was my fault. What if I'm triggering her? I wiped tears from my eyes, stressed out that I couldn't do anything.

"I will get out. I will be out soon. I promise." I texted.

"Okay. Miss you." He replied. 

"Miss you more, buddy. How have you been?"

"Good." He replied. "I made a friend. We're going to hang out soon."

"Mom told me you have a new friend and you guys trade notes and what not."

"Yeah. I draw her pictures and write to her since I can't see her."

I stopped replying for a few seconds, double checking what he texted. "Then...how do you give her the notes? What do you mean you can't see her?"

"I wish I could explain, but I'll show you when you're home."

Show me? Odd.

It occurred to me that they could be sending mail to each other like some sort of penpal thing but no. Mom had said she moved into the neighborhood but not how close she was to us. I thought about calling mom to ask her about her more but I didn't. I figured the last thing she would want to talk about was Ollie's friend. 

A chilling breeze seemed to penetrate through the room. I pulled my blanket up to my neck and tucked myself in tighter. Hospitals were always cold, but this was just unnecessary. A patient nearby started yelling drastically for their nurse. 

"Can I get a goddamn nurse, please!" She yelled.

Some nurses ran pass my room to attend the person. 

Another day. Another day in the hell hole. I tried to ignore it until the patient got louder. Then BOOM! I heard glass shatter.

"I saw it! In the TV reflection. Get it out of my room! Get out  of my room, you!" The patient yelled followed by another shatter of the sort. Mental health crisis was called over the speaker. It was getting pretty serious. However, this happens once or twice a week. It didn't freak me out. 

Security and some other nurses came to help the patient. She stopped screaming and carrying on after a while. I heard one of them say they were going to take her downstairs. Not sure where exactly but I heard the wheels of her bed moving. A few nurses walked pass my door. They stopped right in front of my room to mess with the breaks. On the bed was a much older lady. Her poor little body, swallowed up by her time in the hospital. Skinny with no real life in her. You could tell she was here for a while the way her eyes sunk in, and the dry skin from not being able to shower properly. The withered stringy gray hair looking as light as a feather. She tilted her head slightly into my room, and our eyes met.

"See," she slowly pointed to my TV. "they're here. They're everywhere." She began to cry. "They're going to get all of us."

"Okay Ms. Adams, let's go," The nurses pushed her away.

The air in the room weighed on me and I started feel uneasy. That was weird. What was even more strange is that her presence remained though she was gone. Even though nothing was in the hallway, all I could hear is her voice as clear as day. I remembered every detail about her wrinkly face. I looked over to the TV that was off and nearly spooked myself. I thought I saw something standing near me in the reflection, but when I turned around it was just the stand for the IVs. 

"I can't do this today," I said to myself then threw my blanket over my head. I forced myself to take a nap. There was some bickering in the hallway between the nurses.

"She broke the TV, and her cellphone," I heard someone say.

"Yeah, she's getting worse." Someone replied back.

As the voices faded, so did my thoughts, and I drifted off to sleep.