The Panther In Me by lillymoon55 (the unexpected everything .TXT) 📕

bed. The nurse went and restrained her. Feva lay down calmly, only to jump up, [or sit up in her case] and ask for a glass of water. The nurse got it for her, and she took a sip then, threw the cup at the nurse. She continued on to grab the lamp from the bedside table, and smash it to the ground. Through all this, the nurse just clucked her tongue and shook her head. In the end, when Feva finally calmed down, the nurse drugged her, heavily. As I watched her in her drugged sleep, I felt a wave of relief. It was over! The nurse collapsed in an armchair. “So, how do you know her again?” I looked her over, contemplating whether she was trustworthy or not. I figured not. “Distant cousin.” “Hmmm.” She replied. The nurse nodded, and gave me the I-know-you’re-lying –and-I-don’t-care look. Oh well. Let her think what she wished.
“I’ve got other patients to attend to, believe it or not. So, I’ll just be leaving.” Then she left, and I was completely alone with Feva’s sleeping form. I only wished she was awake, so she could answer my questions. Yet, at the same time, I never wanted to deal with her tantrums again.
Without warning, her eye opened, and breathing sped. “Why are you staring at me like that?” she whispered. “You should be out like a light!” I whispered back. She giggled. “That nurse wasn’t very smart.”She began giggling again. I blinked at her, dumbfounded. “What do you mean?” I asked. “She put the drugs in the IV tube, but I already pulled the needle out!” She waggled the IV needle in front of my face. My expression must have been pretty funny, because her guffaw’s filled the room, and she spluttered: “Your-your-face-e!” I was not amused.
“Can I ask you questions when you finally stop laughing?” Her face immediately froze into a grimace, no sign of laughter left in her expression. “What do you want to know about?” she asked cautiously. “Let me be the one to ask questions... Kay?” She glared at me. “Fine.” she said with a flick of her head. I asked her questions all afternoon. I asked rather silly questions, like did she like her fourth grade English teacher. The whole time, she and I both knew I was building up to THE question. Finally, taking a deep breath, I asked the question I had been building up to the whole time. “Why were you in the jungle?” She sighed. She was relatively calmer then she had been. My earlier questions had done their job. “I-you wouldn’t understand.” Now I glared at her. She smiled; knowing that had been her expression from the very beginning, and the smile eased the tension we had both been feeling, since I asked my question. With a gulp and a reassuring smile from me, she began her sad story.

Chapter 4
“My problems began when I was 3. My dad was diagnosed with Bipolar disorder.” He stared at me questioningly. “Severe mood swings.” I answered his unspoken question. I bit my lip to steady myself, than began again. “My dad had it bad, real bad. He would be angry at me, and the look he gave me made me think he was going to attack me or something, and the next day he would give me this look, so full of love, I thought I was the most important person in the world. His highs were sky high, and his lows were- the worst.” I shook at the memory. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for me to begin again. “Anyways, it got to the point that I thought of suicide... seriously. Later, I thought of running away, and I would have run! I really would have, if it wasn’t for my mom. I loved her, you know. Soooooo much.” My throat got all thick, and I couldn’t continue. I just sat there for a couple of minutes, getting my emotions under control. Finally, when his curiosity had gnawed away all his patience, he had to ask, “What happened?” I clucked at his impatience. To his joy, I continued my story. “My father he... lost it. We thought the pills were finally working, but no, of course they weren’t. And-and that night, he-he-” I was choked up. I was trying to say the one thing I had been trying to forget for 4 years. “He killed my mother.” As soon as I said those words, I realized how much grief I’d been holding back by refraining from saying those words. I touched my cheek wonderingly, and found my fingers wet. I. Was. Crying. I hadn’t cried in 4 years. I hadn’t cried since that day. I fell down into the covers, and sobbed. I sobbed and sobbed. My eyes were streams, no oceans, spilling out all their water. The blankets were soaked through, and I began to feel the wet cloth on my legs. My fists clenched and unclenched on the covers. How could he?! How DARE he! The one thing I’d loved, he’d taken. I imagined what I would do to him, if I saw him now.
Two hours later, my crying began to calm. Afterward, I just felt... empty. I had nothing left in me. All that made up ME was gone.
He-this boy, who found me in the jungle, and rescued me without question, stared at me in sympathy. I felt like screaming in his face; what do you care? Your life is probably happy-go-lucky 24/7. Anger boiled in me. At least it was anger and not sorrow; I’d had enough sorrow for a lifetime.
“No more tears please.” he begged. That did it. That last pitiful response did it. I began to laugh, hysterically. He had snapped me. He just sat with me. He didn’t seem surprised at my hysteria. At some point, I fell asleep, naturally. No drugs this time, to hold back the locked up nightmares of my mother. Within seconds of falling asleep, the nightmares began.
My first nightmare started in the jungle, my home. I walked through the familiar leaves silently. My capable hands ran along the jungle trees rough bark. I felt free and rested. Without warning, a cage fell from the branches above and trapped me. I feebly attacked the grey bars. The bars of the cage were changing, turning to white walls. And then, I was lying in the hospital bed. Three nurses approached me, their teeth gleaming. I snarled at them, in an animalistic way. I thrashed, trying to get out of the blankets that were holding me down, choking me.
One of the creepy nurses brought a hand mirror and showed me my reflection. All I could see was a panther, eyeing the mirror wildly. It took me a second to realized, the panther was me.
I woke with a start, the blankets twisted around my legs painfully. My eyes focused on a point on the ceiling, and I was dimly aware of his hand on my arm. The bright hospital walls spun, as did the floor. I waited for the dizziness to wear off, and when it did, I collapsed back onto the bed. “Are-are you okay?” He asked shakily. I felt like saying: HA! Yeah right, do I look okay to you?! But I just replied with, “Yeah fine. I’ll feel better when I finally know your name.” He smiled, believing I was back to normal, which I was in a way. “I am Daniel.” He told me in the same manner I told him my name.
“Alright Daniel, I believe it’s my turn to ask some questions.” He nodded and agreed easily. “So what’s your family like?” I asked. “My family? Really!” He replied. “Yeah, what’s your family like? Really. I mocked him. “Ha boring!” “No really though, what are they like?” Finally, with a dismissive sigh, he spilled the beans, opened the floodgates. He told me of his tireless mother, calm, wordy father, and overdramatic sister. He told me of his annoying French teacher, and his Rottweiler, Ruff.
“What do your parents think of you spending so much time at the hospital?” I asked, when I could get a word in. “To be honest, I haven’t been home since I met you.” I gaped at him openly, not even trying to hide my shock. “Are you crazy?!” He looked down sadly. “They probably didn’t even notice.” He replied. “Like HELL they didn’t notice!!” I couldn’t believe him. “Are you really that stupid? How long have we been here?! 4 days?!” He looked at me strangely. “You think we’ve been here 4 days?” I nodded, not trusting my voice. “How long?” I asked flatly, when he didn’t tell me. “10 days.”He answered, just as flatly. My breath whooshed out of my lungs. ‘That long?!” Daniel gave me that look again. “What?!” I asked in exasperation. All my anger, confusion, and exhaustion crept up on me. I didn’t want to bake into tears again. I hadn’t cried in 4 years, and now tears came and went like they were common rain.
“Feva... Do you know how long you’re going to have to stay here?” “4 weeks or something... Right? Right?” When he gave me that strange look for the third time that day, I threw my arms up in frustration. “Just tell me okay! I-I can’t handle this anymore, so just tell me!” I was at war with myself. I wanted him to tell me, but some part of me believed that if he didn’t tell me, it wouldn’t be true. My curiosity won out, and I caved. “Please.” He told me, and words never hurt me so much. “5-7 months, and then you probably have to go to therapy, and that could take years. I’m so sorry... you can’t return to your jungle.” I blinked, holding back more tears. “I’ve got nowhere to go! My jungle is all I have!” I was screeching by the end of my sentence. This screeching brought a nurse, hurrying worriedly into the room. “Oh dear! Someone’s been a bad girl!”
This new nurse securely taped the IV tube back into my arm. This nurse had bright ginger locks, white shiny teeth, and a perfect nose. I don’t know why, but I’ll never forget the perfection of that nose. Maybe because it was the last thing I saw before I blacked out AGAIN. To me, that’s all the hospital seemed to be. Waking up, and getting knocked back out.