Page 35 of Fixation
Harper, on the other hand, won’t.
Until I decide she’s healed and rested, Harper won’t be setting foot back here.
She belongs where I can see her.
Where I can keep her safe.
In my home, where she should’ve been all along.
7
HARPER
Shivers vibrate through my body. My teeth lock. Gnash, more like it.
That’s what I wake up to. These uncontrolled body movements.
A second passes, and I sense another thing. Pressure in the crook of my arm. It’s not painful. Slightly uncomfortable maybe, but that’s it.
When I listen closer, I hear a sound.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
What a relief. Apparently, while I was out, I was admitted to the hospital.
They’re giving me fluids. Meds. My eyes remain blissfully closed. I plan on keeping them that way.
It’s going to be okay.
I’m going to be okay.
I’m in the ER. Being taken care of.
I’ll be fine.
More sensations start flooding in. My body returns to life, and I take inventory of what exactly it is I’m feeling.
One of the nurses pulled these really warm and soft covers over me. They don’t irritate my neck or the backs of my hands.
My hospital gown is softer still. Feels a lot like an oversized T-shirt. And a sweatshirt over it too? I think so. Oh, fluffy socks, they put those over my feet.
Go, hospital, woot, woot.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
I call for my congested nose to work and sniff myself. Wow, I smell nice on top of everything else. Clean.
How cool is that? People often complain about the hospital’s antiseptic scent, but not here. The fragrance surrounding me reminds me of the brand of shampoo and soap I use. Plus, my hair doesn’t cling to my scalp anymore.
Someone washed me up.
That’s incredibly kind of them.
I have to be kind too. To thank them. Then ask a nurse or a doctor if there’s something seriously wrong with me or if I just caught a bad flu. Check where my bag and phone are and call my parents.
Okay then.
Resting time is over.
