The story of how I lost my mind.

So here I am walking through the lonely hallways of the hospital. I can hear the nurses and visitors’ voices from the distance and I think someone just called my name, but I don’t turn around. Right now all I can focus on is the room 262.The room that’s just a few feet away from me. The only room that has its door closed and the only room that is now being opened by my trembling hand.

I don’t know what I was expecting to see when I opened the door, but this definitely wasn’t it. I wasn’t expecting to see the room or bed as clean and organized as if no one had entered it in hours. I wasn’t expecting to see her sitting in the couch with her head resting in her hands while painfully looking through the window. I wasn’t expecting to see her in the same clothes she was wearing this morning, which are now ripped and dirty everywhere. Honestly, I wasn’t even expecting her to be awake.

“I am sorry,” she whispers without taking her eyes off the window. I attempt to ask what she is apologizing for, but not even two seconds have passed when she repeats; “I am so sorry.” Her eyes start watering and she takes her hands to her face trying to hold the tears. My heart aches just by seeing her struggle, so I ran to her and bend in front of the couch, wrapping my hands around her whole body. Just when her body is fully taken by mine, her shoulders start to shake as she lets the tears come out, followed by her weak voice repeating, “I am so sorry,” over and over again. I hold her as tighter as possible, and this is where I realize how weak and fragile her body feels against mine, as if she hadn’t eaten in months or had a serious illness. My worry increases and not just because of how she feels, but because I don’t have any idea of what is going on right now. I don’t know why she is crying so hard in a hospital room or what she is apologizing for. All I know is that the girl I am hugging right now is not the same girl I said “have a good day” to just this morning, or the girl who called me sobbing an hour ago asking me to come to this room because she was scared and needed me.

She begins to tear apart and I let go of her, but immediately grab her face in my hands and look into her overwhelmed eyes. I see nothing but fear in them.

“Lucy,” she still refuses to look me in the eyes and focuses them in the window, “Darling, I need you to look at me and tell me what is going on. Please.” I finally get her to find my eyes, but their usual dark-browned color is now darker than I ever thought a pair of eyes could be. Her face is million times lighter than it normally is and deep, dark bags fall under her terrified eyes. I am even more scared now, and my fear grows bigger when she turns around and rests her index finger in the glass. I assume she wants me to look at the window, so I stand up and open it to get a better view of what she wants me to see.

And Jesus Christ.

Jesus fucking Christ.

That’s it. That’s all I can say.

I suddenly forgot how to think or breathe.

I suddenly don’t know how to react.

            It’s her.

            It is my Lucy, the girl sitting right next to me, lying in the ground several floors below us.

It is her lifeless body surrounded by uncountable cops, doctors, nurses and normal people freaked out by what they just witnessed.

 If I thought I was having trouble understanding this situation, right now I’m going out of my mind.

“I’m sorry,” she speaks again, and I somehow manage to blink and get the air back to my lungs before turning around and looking at her -or at whatever this thing in front of me is. “It happened right before you came in. I wanted to say good-bye, but the longer I waited for you, the weaker I became to do it.”

I stop listening to her and bring my hands up to my face covering the tears that are now running down my cheeks. I can’t believe this. I cannot believe this. I did not just looked at my little sister’s dead body lying in the street, and I am not looking at her right in front of me. I just… What the hell is going on?  My whole body is shaking uncontrollably, and I find myself falling to the floor trying to hold onto something and looking for a logical response to all of this. I look at the girl above me one more time, and I think I understand now why she was so pale and seemed so fragile before.

Yes. I am definitely going out of my mind.

There are steps coming from the hallway now, but I don’t take my sight off her until I hear my mom yelling my name from the room’s door. I turn to look at her and her shaky voice and tensed body confirms me that this is actually happening and is not just a terrible dream; so my entire heart comes out of my chest in the form of tears and screams. Two nurses come after me to help me stand up and walk out the room, but it isn’t until we reach the door that it hits me: they didn’t see her. Neither the nurses nor my mom saw the ten year old girl still standing in the middle of the room looking through the window. They didn’t see my little Lucy looking at her own body being wrapped and separated from her soul –saying good-bye to herself.

"Now we are all finally going to be happy" she whispers right when I am taken out of the room.