Alone

I find myself still running. Running away from everything, I am always good at that. Suddenly I stop, I’m surrounded by trees, leaves and logs.

It doesn’t take me long to realize that I am in dead man’s woods.

I walk over to a log and sit down. I try to think about what has just happened back at home, but... I can’t remember. It’s like I have some sort of amnesia. The more I try to remember, the angrier I become. Last thing I remember is speaking to my Mum in the kitchen.

‘What is wrong with me?’ I think to myself.

I stand up and follow the trail within the woods. I feel I need to talk to someone. Someone other than family, maybe get some counselling.

I’ve always have problems with my anger, but I’ve always remember what I have done. Why can’t I remember now? What do I do? I can’t stop questioning what I may have done. Is my Mum and Lockie ok? Have I hurt anyone?

I start to shake; I clench my fists. Before I know it, I swing around and punch the tree. Again, and again whilst screaming at the top of my voice. Then suddenly I collapse to the ground, in pain and emotions swirling in my head. My hand was black, purple and blue. Blood covers my hand; I have open cuts on my knuckles.

What have I done?

I get up onto my feet, but the pain in my hand is unbearable! Stinging, burning, sharp aching pains shooting up to my elbow.

There is no other choice but to unzip my jacket and wrap my hand inside it. The pain becomes more intense. Then panic sets in... what should I do?

I need to go to the hospital. I’ll just have to tell them not to contact my parents.

I walk through the woods and continue on with the trail. I clench my possibly broken hand to my chest whilst fighting back the tears. I don’t know what came over me to do something like this.

Soon enough, I spot a river. I need to wash my hand and try to cool it down to take this god damn pain away!

I kneel beside the river and slowly unwrap my hand whilst clenching my teeth. I place the jacket next to me and carefully place my hand into the slow moving water.

The pain grows more and more intense! I think this will ease the pain, not make it worse!

Quickly, I wash my hand and carefully wrap it back up into my jacket. I stand onto my feet and turn around to continue on the trail. I’m hoping that the hospital isn’t far from here.

Finally, I exit ‘Dead Man’s Woods’ and see road signs pointing in the hospital's direction. This should be easy to follow.

I arrive at the hospital. I trudge to the doors, as I walk in the smell of disinfectant hits me all at once. I look around me. The room was full. I look over to the reception desk and slowly made my way over. But how am I going to explain what happened? I can’t tell them I punched a tree.

“Hi sir, can you tell me what your problem is?” the receptionist asks. I look at her and look at my hand bandaged up in my jacket.

“I think I’ve broken my hand... it’s bleeding a lot too” I explain. I was begging in my head not to ask how.

“How did the accident occur?” she questions. Damn it.

“Erm... uh... I lost a fight against a tree,” I reply. Oh, I sound stupid. Why say something like that to a professional?

The receptionist stops typing and looks at me. Her facial expression says it all. She looks at me as if I have just killed someone.

“Oh, ok sir, what’s your name and date of birth?” she asked.

“Killian Saunders, 3rd of the 6th 2003,” I reply.

“Ok, take a seat” she quickly says. I glance over to the seating area. No seat is available. ‘Sure, take a seat’ I think to myself. I walk over and stand against a wall.

Hours pass. It was now 6pm. I wonder if my parents are worried? I did after all run away and not say anything. I grab my phone out of my back pocket and check. I have 5 missed calls between my Mum and Dad. 

‘Crap I’m in big trouble,’ I think.

“Killian Saunders” the doctor shouts.

I walk over to meet him in the doorway. I look at the doctor and he let on a slight smile. We walk down the corridor into a side room. To my surprise my Mum, Dad and Lockie are sitting in the room. Both my parents look concerned, but the look, looks like they can drag me out of the hospital back home. But I don’t want them here.

“I didn’t want them here!” I yell.

“Sorry Mr. Saunders, you’re still classed as a minor so we had to contact your parents,” the doctor explains.

“It’s a broken hand! I’m not dying!” I shriek.

Everyone in the room is just looking at me like I’m going crazy. I feel it.

“Just calm down Killian and let the doctor check your hand,” my Dad explains calmly.

“Why am I being treated like I’m 10? I’m almost 18 and you all have to be there holding my hand!” I shout.

I go into rage mode again. I kick over the metal medical trolley, punch the wall with my other hand.

“Why does everyone either treat me like a child or treat me as if I’m a psychopath!” I scream.

“I’m not crazy! I’m normal! Why does everyone look concerned? I’m fine,” I continue.

I smash everything I can. My parents look horrified. They can only sit and watch. Before I know it 4 men in white jackets come into the room. They pin me to the floor and all I can do is scream and attempt to kick out. I can feel the tears streaming down my cheeks, my throat stinging from the screaming.

Suddenly I get a sharp pain in my neck. It’s a needle. They sedate me. My eyes get heavier and everything goes black.