Page 47 of Until the Ribbon Breaks

A well of hope.

If only someone in this place would lead me to it because my hope is blood on broken glass.

“Harlow, check,” Leslie calls out from the other side of the door after fifteen minutes have passed.

“I’m going to the bathroom now.”

As I sit on the toilet, I zone out at the white cinder-block wall. They couldn’t be bothered to paint it any other color. This place is dank and cold—much like I am. My empty gaze travels to the light switch next to the plastic mirror. It’s dirty and the safety cover over it has a big chunk cracked out of the corner of it. One of the screws is loose, and I wonder who’s been loosening it.

“Harlow, I have to pee, and all the other bathrooms are being used,” Max says when she knocks on the door.

“One second.”

Quickly, I finish up and as soon as I flush, she barges in.

“Can you not wait?” I complain as I wash my hands.

“You’ve been in here forever.” She rips down her pants and starts doing her business.

“One at a time, girls,” Leslie reprimands as I grab my shower caddy and head to the hygiene supply station. The nurse behind the counter checks in all the items before I return to my room. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I slip out of my flip-flops, and put on my shoes. There’s a ray of sunlight cast across the room, illuminating the speckles of dust in the air. I watch them mindlessly float around, free to go where they may. I’m jealous of the dirt particles, jealous of the sun, jealous of whatever you want to put in front of me. It doesn’t matter what it is, I want what it has so that I can use it to fill everything I don’t.

The tides of gloom are high today with no reason at all. Not that there ever is a reason. Some days are like that—dark and pointless.

“Can you believe it?” Max says when she walks into the room.

“Believe what?”

“We’re finally having a heat wave.” She looks out the window and closes her eyes as if she’s trying to feel the warmth from inside this icy cold purgatory. “I love the sun.”

With a smile on her face, she moves to her bed, straightens the blanket, and then fluffs her pillow before repositioning it at least five times until she’s satisfied.

“It’s bright,” I mutter.

“How can you complain about the sun?”

“Because.” I squint against the blade of light that hits my face at just the right angle when I stand. “Come on, I’m hungry.”

We head toward the cafeteria, and all the while, Max’s steps bounce as mine drag.

“Why are you so chirpy?” I grumble. It’s just another thing for me to be jealous of.

She doesn’t bother responding as we walk into the cafeteria. Max goes slightly rigid as we make our way over to the food trays, but breakfast isn’t as bad as dinner is for her. They give her three chances to eat, but they’ll only feed her through her tube if she fails to make an effort throughout the day.

She’s getting better though. She actually ate a couple of vegetables off her last tray. I was so happy for her, but she only cried.

“Finally, something good,” Wes says when I step in line behind him and see they’re serving pancakes.

Maybe if I shove enough of them into my mouth it’ll make me feel better.

Sebastian is already sitting at our table when we get there. Apparently, in the boy’s unit, they did some dumb team bonding a few days ago and now Sebastian and Wes are friends. He’s been sitting with us ever since. I still do my best to keep my interactions with him limited.

“This shit isn’t half bad,” Sebastian says around a mouthful of food.

“Did you hear about family day?” Wes rips the foil top off his syrup. “We’re going to have a cookout.”

It amazes me how the stupidest things get people excited.

“Is your family coming?” he asks Sebastian.

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