Take Me By The Hand

Twuntee

Everything is fuzzy. My body feels stiff, my mouth dry, my head pounding. Darkness covers everything and my first reaction is to panic, feeling every urge to scream and flail, though my limbs and lungs seem useless. That, of course, only incites more panic.

Okay, Frank. Remain calm. What's the last thing I can remember?

Oh yeah.... Lunch.

The memory comes back to me in the same instant that I hear the voices, echoed and muffled through the wall. I strain to make out full words, but only succeed in sending more pain vibrating through my head. I groan, this time sound escaping me, and bring a hand up to my head, wanting to still the spinning black that blankets my sight. Maybe if I open my eyes, the vertigo will go away.

I peel up my lids, ignoring the ache in the forefront of my head, only to see that the room is spinning, too. My mind barely registers the pale white walls and various filing cabinets before I'm jumping off the cot and racing to the attached bathroom. Dropping to my knees, I wrap both of my arms around the sleek porcelain and begin coughing up everything I've eaten in the past few hours. My stomach clenches and my throat burns. I wince as the bile stings at my nose, my nails digging across the smooth material as I itch to grab onto something. I clamp my eyes shut, the white light pounding down on me making them hurt.

When the coughing settles into dry heaves, and soon panting breaths of thick air, I rest my forehead against my arm. I don't want to move but my legs feel twisted and uncomfortable under the weight of my own body. After a moment's thought, I scramble to my feet, staggering and almost falling back onto the hard linoleum. When my feet are back beneath me, supporting me though the counter keeps my balance, I dare to open my eyes again. The spinning has calmed for the most part but my stomach still churns sickeningly and I swallow hard against the heaving that threatens to pulse forward again.

I take only a moment to rise my mouth in the sink, trying to chase the second taste of my lunch away, before staggering back into the nurses office. I slump back onto the brown cot, the vinyl fabric squeaking against my jeans. My eyes drift closed and silence fills the room. This time, I can make out some of the voices from before.

"...think before you open your fucking mouth." This voice is Mikey and he doesn't sound very happy.

"I didn't know..." Andrew's voice is so quiet that I can barely his his words. "I didn't think it was such a big deal."

"Andrew's right," Oh, that's Matt. He sounds pissed, trying to restrain himself from raising his voice too much. It's strange to hear him on the verge of yelling when he's normally so calm and collected. "It's not his fault. Leave him the fuck alone. None of this is his fault."

"Mikey's got a point, though," Josh speaks up. There's a tense moment of silence and I can imagine the others glaring at him. "Just think about it from Frankie's perspective, Matt. Andrew just suggested he has cancer. That's not something you take lightly. What if--"

"No," Mikey pipes up, his voice louder and more defiant. "Do not even go there, Josh."

I swallow a few times in the silence, trying to dislodge the sudden lump in my throat. I know what they're about to say even before Josh's barely audible voice echoes too loud through my ears. "What if Andrew's right? What if Frank has cancer?"

"I can let them in if you want to stop eavesdropping." Miss Zimmerman's voice, though not loud, makes me jump. I hadn't realized she was there, but suddenly she was standing at the entrance. She leans casually against the door frame, arms crossed, her black hair framing her dark features as a amused smirk plays at the corner of her lips.

I sit up, running a hand through my hair and thinking over her offer. Do I really want to face all four of them just yet? It might stop them from bitching at each other in the hallway, but I don't think I'm ready to see them at the moment. So I shake my head, looking down at my lap. "Did you call my mom?" I wonder.