TRAPPED

54

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Celine

People come and go. Julien stays the whole day, though. So does my dad, but I don't really talk to him. Part of me feels bad for what he said because he just wants me to be okay, but I wish he'd understand that it's probably not likely, and it makes it worse if he just denies the fact.

Mateo comes at eight p.m. with food. I only eat a little bit, because I feel like I'm gonna throw up if I eat any more.

I give it to Julien. He gives it to our dad when he comes back from taking Léo and Camilo home.

Eventually I fall asleep again and don't wake up until morning, to the sound of my dad talking quietly. I open my eyes, finding him conversing with one of the doctors in French.

He doesn't realise I'm awake until the doctor leaves. My dad looks down at me and smiles.

"What did he say?" I ask quietly.

"They're gonna do another surgery on you tomorrow." He tells me.

I sigh.

"They're really hopeful about it." He adds. He sits beside me on the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine."

"Why don't we get you in your wheelchair and we can go on a little walk outside?" He suggests.

"If I'm in a wheelchair then it's not a walk, is it?"

"It might be nice to get some fresh air. It's sunny today." He tells me.

I scrunch my mouth to the side and nod. "Okay then."

He smiles. He grabs the wheelchair from the corner of the room and sets it up. I watch him, then unfurl the covers from over me and sit up. He helps me into the wheelchair, then wheels the IV drip over and takes me out of the room. He talks to a doctor about where to go, then decides on the garden downstairs.

We go into the lift, which takes us to the ground floor. My dad takes me out into the garden of the hospital, which is mainly for psych patients, but apparently they use it later, not now, so it's okay for us to be here.

The sun feels nice on my skin. I look up at the sky and squint, then back down at the concrete floor. I wrap my arms around myself and glance back at my dad, who smiles at me.

He sets his hand on my shoulder and leans down to kiss my forehead. "Let's go sit over there." He says.

"Okay." I whisper. He takes me over to a small bench and puts the wheelchair next to it, then sits on the edge so he's right beside me.

"I was thinking to bring some of your Christmas presents. You never got to open them." He tells me.

"I don't want presents." I whisper.

"Why not?"

I shrug. I lean back and close my eyes. The sun continues to shine on my face, and when I reopen my eyes I see a woman walking past. The smile she gives me is full of so much pity and sympathy and I have to look away.