The Darkest Days

Chapter 8: AT THE INFIRMARY

Some patients were going downstairs, waiting for their turn to take medicine. The infirmary’s temperature was so low that Hillary felt like she could die from this deadly cold. What a shame, when an outstanding student like her would shelter herself in this terrifying place. Those brazen doctors here isolated her from others, they harassed, suffocated and abused certain women. Luckily, Hillary hasn’t been chosen yet; hence, Hillary intentionally showed her zeal for running away from here. Every night, she threw her view out of the window frame, standing gaze at the oak; astoundingly, another oak, of this infirmary – her final consolation, as she tried to configure it as much as possible, her lust for personalizing it, and squeezing it. The oak used to be her rendezvous with Jason, a scattered memory that she would never forget. To her visualization, Jason now has got married to an exquisite woman, and having children too. She prayed for them, to have a better life, at least not similar to her circumstance, her destiny. As a bittersweet memoir, she scrolled down to the last line: “Jason, Jason, Jason.” Hillary called his name even in words, her memoir was blithely filled with the name “Jason”, not her exchange trip. This concurrent incident: being in the haunted infirmary and Jason’s marriage. It was illegally unacceptable, yet inherently it was, she couldn’t change this naked truth.

“Hillary, you’ve got a letter from University of Nebraska – Lincoln.” A nurse was dashing towards her bed, with a letter in her hand. She immediately recognized that it was Timothee’s manuscript, however, she wanted to reassure, for avoiding misunderstanding. Certainly, she really missed Timothee, though they weren’t on speaking terms any longer. Timothee basically was her confidante until they met Jason – a coward.

“Who sent it?” asked Hillary, trivializing the insane mood at that time was her priority. She didn’t know whether or not Timothee would apologize, for everything she had done by the time they were in the university.

“Timothee, ma’am.” Her poker face frightened Hillary, now, she completed her duty, giving that letter to Hillary, and left without any words.

“Thanks.” She attempted to show the courtesy, she comprehensively understood of being born in a dignified family.

“Hillary, I know that you still remember me, as a jackass soulmate, we’ve been accompanying together almost eighteen years. What comes to my mind now is saying sorry to you. I hope that you always regard me as your best company ever. See you in another life.”

She knew, that Timothee has deceased, in peace, to her prediction. The way Timothee got away from her, was so ruthless. They have been together for eighteen years, and just an i***t – Jason, had broken and exacerbated their bond. Timothee must have had a better life, she had suffered too much, didn’t deserve it sincerely.

Hillary tried to weeping her tears, showing that she was sufficiently strong to overcome this hard time. Landry, and then Timothee, unclenching her hands, leaving her alone, in this infirmary. She recollected everything about her childhood, and adulthood also; there was a piece of heart inside listening to Timothee’s remaining sound, as the last goodbye for both.

By the time at the cathedral, they were carefully nurtured, being taught holy things, and praying every midnight. They were educated how to love, how to tolerate, how to apologize, how to accept their fate, and how to get through of it.

“I’ll pray for you, Hillary.” Timothee was whispering on her cranky bed, devouring some crunchy cookies in her little mouth.

“Why?”

“You’re part of my soul.”

“Ain’t I?”

“You are.” Timothee reclaimed. Hillary was so important to her, just a friend, but knowing lots of each other’s secrets; she was dreaming of being a well-known businesswoman, after graduation, although she was just eight years old.

“Thanks for saying that, Timothee.” Hillary responded with a content facial expression, her reddish cheeks were so pretty; Hillary of course was inherited the impeccable pulchritude of her mother Landy, as a cultured person, she had been outstanding in her own way since being a junior student – could memorize twenty pages of Bible within ten minutes; it was absolutely impressive for an eight-year-old girl like Hillary.

“What’s your plan for tomorrow?” Timothee really craved to know Hillary’s next course of action for the day after; the reason for this was merely to elicit some confidential information hidden in her desk – that was a sheet of paper, elaborately folded into a mysterious box.

“So soon, good night Timothee!”

“Wait!”

“What do you want to know?” asked Hillary. She was quite skeptical of Timothee’s question. Timothee, the one who had the privilege to know some amazing stuff about Hillary, but not everything. Timothee somehow had secured her belief in Hillary, not too long to wait.

“Anything.”

“Fine! Well I’m gonna eat something in the morning, and attend a vocational course then.” Hillary just listed certain usual things she did for a day, not particularly, in details, or point by point.

“Just that?”

“Exactly.”

Timothee felt disappointed first, because she couldn’t navigate which activity Hillary would do for tomorrow, and couldn’t approach that cryptic box too.

“Are you thinking of something, Timothee?” Hillary was able to guess anything wrong with Timothee at this time – discontent and dissatisfied.

“Nothing. Good night!” Timothee ended up everything with her daily wish to Hillary; she didn’t mean to deepy dig into Hillary’s secrecy anymore, it was about invading someone’s privacy.

They were having a lark, really enjoying that moment together, they were such pure conscience beings, for at least they still kept their dignity when being under the vigilance of many nuns in the cathedral. Two sappy girls, lots of dreams, were talking to each other about love, and education, just two topical features that they had the faculty to discuss, presumably, they had just been taught of these things. Two of them held the conversation without intermission.

“I had a disposition towards people in this place.” Timothee with an innocent angelic voice began. Her blond hair was shining under the flame of the sun, if Hillary was a miniature epitome of Venus, Timothee would be Aphrodite.

“Why? Even though I loathe them that much, but never considering of a revenge.”

“Revenge? No, I don’t, just feeling sick of them actually. Once I went to the grocery store near my house, I paid enough money to purchase a newfangled alarm to wake me up in the morning, but the cashier was a devil, a liar, a bad guy. She stole one of my seven pence, and pretended to be naïve, her absurd look at that time was so disgusted.”

“Really? Your story?” Hillary was questioning of what Timothee has told her, about how a mediocre cashier in a cramped grocery store could be a stealer.

“Absolutely true.”

They unconsciously laughed at each other because of that silly story. Timothee’s alarm was ornamented with some cute sticks having the images of kitty and puppy, and painted by a sparkling shiny color outside.

It was midnight, and Hillary couldn’t sleep – being busy with reminiscing of Timothee, and their magical memories; her self-absorption, dedication, and enthusiasm towards this friendship, has ended. The verisimilitude of this story, between two of them, was unconceivably clear – Hillary thoroughly saw the transparency noticably creeping inside her body; her swallow love to Jason, now feeling regretful of it. It turned out that she should have spent her priceless time on sustaining her relationship with Timothee. She was exotically fine, in her own room, with emotionless pills; beholding Timothee’s letter, she almost cried, cried for herself again, and her friend. This type of seclusion wasn’t easy at first for her, in view of her leukemia, she had to isolate herself with any other patients – and for sure, she didn’t want to let everybody witness her disgusting appearance at that time, the acrimony of life, drove her mad somehow. This was the last time did she touch anything surrounded, mercifully. Hillary sued to the nurse for taking her outside – for harmonizing herself with this planet, to her dictates of conscience, she once again aspired to meet her father, he was still working in that power plant. Trying to write a letter for him, but she couldn’t, along with her shaking hands, crawling to the door was also really challenging; Hillary turned on the radio: “A serious fire occurred at a power plant near the downtown of Nebraska this morning. It is estimated that at least 30 workers were killed in this conflagration.”

Waiting for a while, Hillary was restoring her spirit, “Wasn’t it?”. She attempted to keep calm, as much as possible, her father Bryan, has passed away this morning – no incentives to live, her last hope was ruined by that news, such cruelty, and insanity was present, and stole her soul again. She had written to him, but it was too late; Hillary was looking forward to hearing an untrue response from Bryan, hopelessly. “My father, the day I met him, he was him, as usual, nothing changes, but I cannot meet you the last time. It’s my fault, for not dissuading you from continuing to work at that dangerous workplace. Dad, you’re the greatest father I’ve ever had in this world, taking care of me since I was a little baby in your hands, saying goodbye to me at the train station, and picking me up from that again. However, those things, I couldn’t see once in my life any longer. Apparently, Mom and Dad, are so happy when being in heaven, with our God, please catch this sinful beings, to be with you, I really miss you. Why did you leave me alone, in this infirmary? I lost my mother, Jason, Timothee, and finally, you. My heart is broken, you motivated me to move forward, but cannot hold me back from sullenness this hard time. Your presence would never be faded in my mind.” Words were ruling Hillary’s consciousness at some point, the accrual of sadness made her traumatized, she uncaged this awkwardly melancholic feeling a thousand times, but this time, didn’t, and couldn’t. Hillary psychopathically threw the TV set, table, quilts, pillows and drugs out of the window, some patients and nurses heard her sorrowful scream in that room, and ran as a rabbit towards it, Hillary became another person, with bleeding scratches on her face, more gruesomely, she had cut herself.

“Hillary, stop!”

“For what?” She shouted in tantrum, then throwing the remaining stuff brutally, as she was throwing her moroseness far away. She had undergone enough, the little body like her couldn’t withstand these continuous bad news.

“Please, listen, I’ll give you a sedative.” A nurse in that crowd tried to ameliorate current situation with Hillary.

“You all are evils! Get out of my room!” Hillary was screaming again, and wasn’t able to control her actions anymore. And the need of intervention for her mad behaviour has been taking into account.

“Doctor! Doctor!” A patient rushed to seek an appropriate doctor to ease her uncontrollable demeanour.

“Get out of my room! Or I’ll kill myself in front of you. This f*****g infirmary had no value on me, letting me seclusively lie alone on this tedious room. No way! You’re such dumbass existence to my eyes.” Hillary actually lost her mind, she experienced too many tragedies, the crowd felt empathetic with her feeling right now. They left her alone.