Part 14 (1/2)

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”Hold still, child!” she demanded.

”No! Stop!” I cried louder.

The woman held my wrist down, pressed to the bed. She squeezed it tight. The pressure was so intense, and it felt like my st.i.tches were going to break. I was growing scared. Tears were falling out of my eyes.

”Stop fighting me,” she growled. ”If you hold still, I will get your blood without all of this difficulty. But if you keep moving, it's going to keep hurting some more. Do you want that?”

I shook my head with tears drenching my face. She felt the need to squeeze my wrist some more. I wondered if she was doing that on purpose. I held as still as I could. It took her four more agonizing sticks to get all of the blood she needed. If I felt the need to hurt myself at that moment, I wouldn't have to, for she was doing a fine job. She filled six tubes of blood. When she was finished, I sat up and felt light-headed. She laughed when I fell back and laid my head on my pillow.

”You shouldn't sit up right away,” she tardily said. She began putting labels on the tubes that held my blood.

”I have to get your vitals this morning. Take your s.h.i.+rt off, and if you have a bra, take that off too,” she said while not looking at me.

When I had my s.h.i.+rt off and she had put away the tubes, she pulled out a stethoscope and a blood pressure tester. While checking my blood pressure, she yanked on my bandaged wrists and pulled my arm to straighten my posture. She then shoved the thermometer into my mouth roughly, which almost made me choke. She laughed when I coughed. It occurred to me that I was not dealing with a nice nurse at all. She was brutal, rough, and seemingly careless.

I didn't hear Janine moving around. I looked over at her side of the room, and she was still asleep. I wondered where Ms. Mosley was. The nurse told me to put my s.h.i.+rt back on and gather my personal items. She said that she was going to a.s.sist me in getting cleaned up.

I wanted to tell her ”no, thank you” because she didn't seem like the kind of nurse I wanted touching my private areas. She was not like the nurse at the other hospital at all. Hesitating, I got up out of the bed and grabbed my underwear and a menstrual pad. When she saw me grab the pad, the look on her face changed from simply mean to terrifyingly angry.

”Don't even tell me that you are on your period, child,” she said.

I nodded, afraid of what she was going to do to me.

The nurse shook her head with a grimace on her face. She turned away from me, grabbed the tubes and her bag, and stormed out of the room. Confused, I went to the door. Anxiety washed over me, and I couldn't make myself go out the door. I looked down at my arm as it ached in pain. I could see the spots where she'd stuck me with the needle. My skin color turned black and blue. I grew afraid that she wouldn't come back. If she wasn't going to help me, then I had no way to clean up. She was the only nurse who was apparently going to help me. I didn't mean to make her leave.

I forced myself to walk out the door and try to catch her. I was hoping that I could at least get her to give me new bandages for my wrists. I walked out the double doors that separated the Girl's Unit from the main area, and stopped when I saw Ms. Mosley and the nurse talking.

Ms. Mosley was upset. ”Why didn't you help her get a bath?”

The nurse responded, ”I am not about to clean her while she is on her period, Karen. This is not even my area. I work with the adults, not pediatrics. I don't appreciate you leaving messages on my voicemail like the one you left last night, either. I didn't know that you all had a new female patient on the Adolescent Unit who needed her blood drawn. I came to draw blood for you because your unit's nurse has not been showing up for her s.h.i.+fts. If you have a problem, you need to talk to Dr. Pelchat because I have nothing to do with what goes on over here. Don't ever call me with that kind of business again!”

Ms. Mosley stayed silent as the nurse stormed off. Geoffrey had been watching from behind the counselor's desk. He asked her if she was all right, and she nodded.

I hurried back to my room feeling embarra.s.sed and dismayed. When I entered, Janine was coming out of the bathroom. She looked at me. Her hair looked soft and it flowed down her back. She smiled at me, flas.h.i.+ng her cute pink dimple.

”What are you doing up so early?” Janine asked. She threw herself down on her bed and covered up with her treasured, pink blanket. She looked warm.

”The nurse came to take my blood,” I confessed. I went back over to my bed, and covered myself with the thin, white blanket. It hardly did any good for me because I was still cold.

”Wasn't she supposed to be here yesterday?” Janine asked.

”Yes.”

”I hate this place,” she complained. ”Wait. Didn't you say that the nurse is supposed to help you get cleaned up, too?”

I nodded.

”This place really sucks.” Janine frowned at me. ”I'm sorry,” she said.

She tried to smile at me, but I couldn't smile back. I looked away from her. She must have drifted off into her own place. I turned back to her when I heard her giggle. She looked pretty when she smiled. Her eyes sparkled.

I looked down at my hands. I didn't want to see her face. I touched my face. It felt oily. I looked at my fingers. They were s.h.i.+ny. I touched my face again and felt my nose. There was a mild pain. I felt the spot where the pain grew stronger, a spot between my nose and my cheek, right on the crease of my nose, where it felt like a pimple was growing. I felt like crying. I looked up at Janine. She was lying down, and her eyes were closed. Her pink skin looked soft and clear.

Angrily I lay back down on the bed. I touched the pimple on my nose. I went from touching to digging. I dug the nail on my index finger into my skin and went as deep as I could into the pimple. Then I ripped as hard as I could. I felt the pressure of the pimple release as blood spilled down my nose. I could taste it on my lips.

”Hold still, Lexus,” I fussed as squeezed the small, barely noticeable pimple on her chin.

Lexus tried to lie as still as she could on her back as I sat on top of her and hovered over her to try to kill the evil pimple.

”Oh, but it hurts,” she whined.

”Then squeeze my hips or scratch my back. Just hold still,” I told her.

Lexus wrapped her arms around my back and, as I squeezed her pimple, she dug her nails into my back. The pain was amazing. I felt too much adrenaline go to my head. I couldn't stop squeezing. I had to make the puss come out. One long, hard squeeze and Lexus dug her nails into my back even harder.

The puss shot out. She screamed, and I screamed. Well, my scream was more like a moan, as she had run her nails down my back. With the way things looked, if one of our parents had walked in, they would have gotten the wrong idea.

”Well, that was fun,” I said jokingly, as I sat on top of her.

She looked beautiful, lying on her back. She looked up at me and laughed. ”Get off of me,” she giggled.

I got off her and grabbed a Kleenex from a tissue box. When I gave her the tissue, she wiped her chin. She looked at the b.l.o.o.d.y paper.

”Eww...this is nasty,” she said. ”I hate it when I get pimples.”

”I couldn't even see it. It was so small,” I said.

I looked into the mirror as I spoke to her. I frowned. I had oily skin with too many dark spots. I was ugly. I turned away from the mirror angrily. Lexus looked at me, and put a hand on my shoulder. I shoved her away from me. She sighed. She silently forgave me for shoving her, and tried to smile.

”You look so cute in your new outfit. I think we did a good job picking our new outfits for the picnic. Don't you think?”

She wanted me to respond. I looked at her mini-skirt and corset tank top. She was wearing nail polish and make-up. Then I looked at my denim jeans and long-sleeved sweater I wore to cover up my cuts. I didn't want to respond.

Still trying to be cheerful, she grabbed some lipstick. ”Come on, just this once. Let me put some lipstick on you.”

I stared at the lipstick, almost afraid. Lexus laughed and shoved me into a chair next to the dresser.

”Look, you will like this color,” she said as she hovered over me and began to put the lipstick on my lips. Then she pulled out her blush. I tried to get up, but she pushed me back down.

”No,” she said. ”You made me sit still while I let you torture me, and now it's your turn.” After the blush came the eye shadow. I sat still without a fight until she went for the liquid eyeliner. ”Now, you will have to trust me,” she warned.

I stayed quiet and stared at her. She laughed. ”Don't worry. It's not like you're going to die.”

”Yes, I am,” I said.

”Shut up, no you won't. Now, look up at the ceiling.” She ran that liner pen on the line of my bottom lashes, then along the top, without poking my eyes out, as I feared she would. ”You don't need mascara,” she complimented. ”You've got nice, long eyelashes like your Mom.”

I smiled at her.

She stood in front of me with her hands on her hips. She c.o.c.ked her head as she studied her work of art. ”You look nice,” she finally said. ”Look for yourself.” She pulled me up out of the chair.