Patience had a way with being fragile and gentleman-like towards me. I felt him skim the outside of my fleshy cheekbone before I could get a sniffle of his unrefined aroma, nova cane, inside of this hospital room.

Like ancient medication and ink filled papers, Death always had an awkward way of presenting himself as well, maniacally even. Nevertheless, he held his duty at higher regards, but it was very questionable why he bothered hiding himself in the first place. Hospitals is all Death ever knows.

I'm not much for dramatics, but the way I had awoken strapped to a bed post was newer to me than what I've ever encountered in awhile. It' has been roughly two months since the last time I've been hooked to a machine, which thrusted vitamins and calcium into my bloodstream at a steadfast pace.

"Hello Delilah."

Still adjusting to overbearing lights, I flinched at hearing the sound of my own name being spoken aloud from across the room. Decorative paintings of sceneries adored the pristine white walls. In a precarious position, "Be careful with your eyes love, the lighting in here can be brighter than the heavens," Some nurse chastises.

Only if one existed. I thought.

Caressing my forehead, it hadn't occurred to me that today was another proactive new day—the morning after the party last night. I could feel many protruding rhinestones and cotton balls at the base of my throat, before it suddenly became harder to speak. The threading sensation of the veins in my neck, as a headache thumped forward inside of my mind.

"Believe me, one does exist," The nurse shuffled across the floor, upturning a glass of water through my lips. Drinking slowly, this older lady with a clipboard in hand, sends me a shinier smile, as she wrote purposefully across a piece of paper, "And it's much brighter than anything you've ever seen." The nurse beamed.

Before I could register the slow beating of my heart against my rib cage, the nurse started at tossing my legs over the bed in efforts to slip my frail body into a wheel chair. "Um, I'm sorry." I coughed stiffly in between syllables. "May I ask what am I doing here?"

She a hummed a sweet tune, nodding her head to said tune while she moved the wheel chair at a steadfast pace. "Ms Blaine, it appears to me that you've succumbed minor injuries previously the night before. Which isn't healthily accompanied with your daily treatment." We begin to move at a slower speed, as I feel lulled to the movement of my wheel chair.

"Treatment?" I ask in a mumble.

"Treatment." Nurse repeats back to me. I can't really make out the printed name on her hospitable attire, so nurse is what I'll call her.

Nurse eases me off of the bed into a wheelchair, with my head killing around bonelessly.

"Ms Blaine, even from your past residency, you must resume your weekly revaluations to ensure you're taking your anti depressant meds." Finally my wheelchair ceases at a stop, as the nurse fiddles with the same clipboard. She began reading rather rehearsed-like, robotically.

"Just until we see progress,"

I roll my eyes in full account of what the nurse might decide next. I've heard it all before. "After considering what occurred last night, your treatment has to be aggressed." Deeply I release a sigh of agitation.

As if on cue, the memories of the acute psychic wards I attended over the past year, came flooding back to me. I've experienced three different medical teams which introduced to me the same three diagonals. Crazed, jagged hallucinations, and hostile uneasiness. They simply couldn't believe I had accepted my father's death, shortly letting me go up until my mother died five months after him. Then, more sickly asylums were dedicated to exercising me and my alleged mental illness.

"What happened last night?" I deadpanned, glaring into the marbled floors beneath my feet. "I merely drowned by accident. That's not your field of complication." reinforcing a mellowed tone.

"Ms Blaine, that's not what I'm directed to discuss with you," I began to sulk, subsiding into my seat. "Here! Why won't I reassign you to my supervisor."

I hadn't even noticed we'd been surrounded by a recollection of doctors and administrators. Everything was so perilously white or crème colored, by now I won't refrain from hurling.

At once, another lady had approached me with clasped hands with an animated grin that spread across her mouth from ear to ear. Something vibrates inside of me at the sight of her as I continued to heavily frown.

"Greetings, Ms Blaine." The supervisor woman explained, "It is always good to see our younger patients in our lobby. Of course, early mornings." She says more to the nurse who curtly nods in agreement.

I totaled, deciding to reply in silence.

I clamped my fist around the arm rests, as anger bloomed inside of my chest in knots. Frustration was always my substitute for discomfort. It was an initial response to distaste and right now, I didn't want to be here.

Besides that, today was suppose to be my first day at a new school.

"Your Aunt Scarlett told me, as your doctor, that you are new in town. To display means to handle you fragilely with sophistication as we do with everyone else. To Ensure a better licensed future." If she continued to talk more in such a sing-song voice, I'm afraid I won't hesitate to off myself so therefore; it won't even be a future.

"Here in Bellingham's mental clinic, we deal with situations such as elderly care, troubled kids, and cases relating to suicide or suicidal thoughts." Rethinking at the margin, I scowled internally after Aunt Scarlett came to mention. Why had she taken me here? She'd known I spent an extended duration last year at another madhouse institution, I suffered more greatly than a repetitive cause for money.

I cleared my throat for a second time, fidgeting from side to side. "Suicide?" I stuttered. Their intrigued gazes made me want to melt in the presence of their obvious judgement deflecting my disappointment, "You think I tried to kill myself?"

My cheeks were painted the colors of cherries, I just know it.

Instantly, Nurse is cradling my forehead with a towel. I must've been sweating bullets, enhancing how guilty I seemed. I was never a big fan of heated attentiveness, and this is coming from someone who once spray painted the principal's car.

Of course another story, for another time.

"No!" The supervisor exclaimed worriedly, "No one here is thinking that,Ms Blaine. But,"

I harshly roll my eyes, biting my tongue in the process. "But what? What is the other butt besides you in the room?" I all but shouted.

The supervisor's eyes dart into slits, as a impregnated pause infiltrates the gap between us.

"Ms Blaine, you have to know there is a reason with you being here today and how unusual this case appears to us and your family. You nearly drowned last night." The older grey haired lady establishes with patience waning in her voice,

I cock a single eyebrow toward her, menacingly. My knee jumped with each beading pulse in my arm,

"Ms Blaine, you almost drowned." The nurse continued. "And profusely, our records show that you know how to swim."

My heart skips another pulse. My eyelids flutter as a deep sign raked my shoulders. I was at lost for words. "Ms Blaine, you have been swimming professionally for 10 years since the age of 5. Up until this point, your medication began." The supervisor pressed.

I indeed knew how to swim. I've been swimming literally for ages.

Sometimes I wish I didn't. That's in the past now.

"Trust me, We'll take care of you." The Supervisor leaned over me, skidding the blanket wrapped securely over my arms after she assisted the nurse to take a hold of my wheel chair again. "Nurse Albury, take our patient to the garden of Eden for the meantime. Her cousin will be here to relief her, shortly."

The nurse who I now recognize as Nurse Albury passes me a cool glass of water which I down as soon as it graces the passage of my mouth again. Blankly, we proceed past some double doors. It has me choking innocently, at the idea of their garden being called that.

The Garden of Nysa.

She rolls me in my chair until she feels satisfied. Their garden is more of a green house with barley any room to breathe, the sensation of my ears popping is what I should've saw coming. It's like I've climbed through a portal of some sort, right into the inviting arms of the church.

What I didn't see coming though, was the nurse leaving me in a hurry, as if I wouldn't notice her departure. A picturesque man I've familiarized myself with, quickly spawns into my view.

He seemingly materialized out of nothing.

Maybe it was his stance as he bent down grazing a flower bed with his palm. Maybe it was his uncontrollable, unkept tresses that resided on top of his head. Or maybe it was that silver super-physical eye, that captured mine indefinitely.

It was like he felt my gaze. In a haste, he was turning around to face me after his attention was once being occupied elsewhere. A little stubble dwells on the skin of his chiseled chin. His stare was strong enough to burn me, molding me practically into my seat. Now I could see his one silver eye, and the other hazel glaring one. It reminded me of a burning hot sun.

He looked like any other guy, except he wasn't.

His bodily build was different, matching his short lived strides he made in my direction. He was heading straight at me, but yet, saying he looked pissed was an understatement. Why was he so angered?

"You've got to be more careful." He all but amuses. Here standing in front of me is my life savor making demands, and I didn't even know his name.

The silver thrived between arrays of provocative hazel— overlapping in his beady irises, and yet the silver was so prominent and delirious to my soft inspection.

It wasn't as dark as it was, when we last met, so I could make out his masculine features perversely. That thought alone is enough to make my observance retreat, as I scratched the back of my neck, shyly.

"What are you talking about?" I ask, submissively.

Silver narrows his brows at me, accusingly, "Don't play games with me. You know exactly what I am talking about." At those words, I got a fleeting past glimpse of my father, and how he use to scold me whenever I had done something remotely crazy.

I did not like this feeling, I didn't like it one bit. Why had I began to feel aimless guilt?

I twist my lips terrifically, going to tell him off -when he stops me with the wavering of his hand. "Jumping into the deepest end of the pool for me to save you, you had to have known you couldn't swim!" Silver stated.

I flinch, turning my head to look around for my nurse, Ms Albury. There was no way he could yell at the top of his lungs inside of a place like this. I was all but peaceful until he showed up. So much for being good looking!

"I can swim!" I manage to say in between his monologue of lambasting me. "Oh yeah? Why hadn't you!"

Lowly, Silver smirks awaiting my response as if he already had figured I was not telling the truth. Which I was, but there was no way he could've known that. A stranger! Ready to skin me alive about my own actions.

Why hadn't I chosen to swim? Maybe I didn't wan to, you ever thought of that. I thought.

Half admittedly, "I was intoxicated. Drank too many drinks. Anyone could've known that." I say.

Silver takes a look back into the place he formerly stood before I had caught him ripping out a few plants. He scrunches his lips together, face palming himself in this irritable action. If it was any of his business, I might've ask what was he doing here but it was apparent, he was in the middle of leaving.

"Listen," I began smoothening out the crinkles of my hospital gown. I was growing nervous as sweat beaded across the length of my hairline. "You saved my life. Let's just leave it at that." Silver wraps his arms across his chest, what was his deal? I was ending an argument on decent accords.

"I would've liked to think you were intending to thank me." Silver retorts. I grimaced at his notion.

"Thank you." I try. He couldn't be any more sassy?

"I have to go." Silver says, moving around my wheelchair towards the double doors outside of the greenhouse. "But remember what I said," He takes one long lasting look at me, seeping into my soul.

I awkwardly played with the fingers at my side. "You've got to be more careful." His words were haunting.

Then he's gone like a jet, with the same lasting appearance like the last time. Only on this occasion, he left his peculiar sense of humor behind. The words exchanged between us would permanently stain my mind, placing this male as a surreal character with attitude.

Casualties weren't really his thing. I noted.

A few more minutes surpassed after he'd left as I stared a hole into nothing but dirt and dandelions. Until suddenly filling with overzealous, the doors opened again and who I see instead of my cousin is far more wildly astonishing.

"Darcy couldn't make it," He says. "So she sent me in her place."

Robin's boy lucky grin, is more than enough to make me jump fifty feet out of my wheelchair.

I wonder why Darcy couldn't pick  me up like she was suppose to.

.