Page 162 of Wrath

I look around the room, feeling...nothing. I feel confused.Like I forgot something that I really need to say. But now I can’t remember it. The fuzzy feeling starts to turn to pissed off.

"Why am I here?" I look at the tall nurse, standing behind Mom. "I got scholarships and I forgot about them?"

I don't even notice that I'm sitting up till the nurse puts her hand on my shoulder. "Let's not get so agitated, Mr. Masters. Going home is dependent upon you being awake and calm enough to safely discharge. You don't want to make your mother feel unsafe, now do you?"

I lie back and shut my eyes.

Tightness.

My chest.

I feel like I can't breathe.

"How do you feel? It's okay to be angry. I don't want you being physical," the nurse says in a sing-song, preschool-teacher voice.

I put my arm over my eyes. It's...like I'm falling and I want to grab something. Need to. But I can't.

"How about some more relaxant medication?"

It's better to say yes. At this place. Better if they think you're on board. You don't want to be defiant in a place like this. Even in my current state, I know that.

“We still have your IV placed, so it will be fast,” the nurse promises.

I nod.

I close my eyes after. Think of... I can't think at all. My chest is still tight. Tears build in my eyes as Mom tells the nurse she'll take me home and take care of me.

I'm too tired to be mad.

Did I really miss my senior year? Or am I dreaming?

Warm under the blankets. Someone shaking me awake. Into the wheelchair. I don't like the halls here. I don't like the gray floors, gray walls. I remember—last time. I was here before. I wanted to die.

If nothing else, I guess I didn't die.

Mom says something. I'm so fucking high. It’s funny.

She says, "Christopher, we have to get up now and walk to the car."

Notwe, my addled mind thinks.Only I do.

I get up. Why am I wearing real clothes? Was I not inpatient? I don't want to tell her I'm confused. She holds my hand to go down the stairs.Blue tile stairs. Like someone stole them from a plaza fountain.

My legs feel weird...like, shaky. I feel like I might pass out.

Don't pass out.

Mom's hand on my back. Into the van. And it’s weird to be in here. To smell the rubber-wax smell. Smells like childhood.

"You can lie down in the back seat if you want to. We can skip the buckle."

I get back there—barely. Lie down. I look at myself. Blue sweatpants and a T-shirt. Nike. Feeling dizzy. Empty-headed.

I rub the inside of my elbow. Stings a little. Always with the sore muscles.

I frown down at my bicep. What's that on it? My eyes are too blurry to read. I squint.

MILLER.

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