Waking Up From Sweet Nightmares.

    She took a gasping breath as she seemed to emerge from the water. Only, she wasn't in the water anymore. Her hair was soaked and there was a sharp pain in her chest. The light she looked up onto was excrutiatingly bright; it seemed like hours that she stayed in that position but only a few seconds had passed and she thudded back to the hard table. A rhymic sound beeped faster and sullenly slowed. To a stop. Everything was once again dark, then, there was a light. A blue, glowing light that seemed far away. As it drew near her, she realized it was the butterfly again. This time, the butterfly seemed to fly faster than last time. The beautiful butterfly didn't rest on her eyes this time, but her heart. As soon as it touched her chest, there was a thumping sound that seemed to fill her ears. She was alive again.

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

    Beep. Beep. Beep. BeepBeepBeep...The annoying sound became clearer and faster as Rowan began to wake up. There was a distinctly bright light above her as she lay on what seemed to be a slightly stiff bed. Rowan heard an aweful moaning sound and realized it had been from her own lips. As every object became clearer, she realized here she was. The hospital. No, this wasn't supposed to happen...I'm supposed to be with the beautiful angel...no, the blue butterfly. "Oh, Rowan!" A concerned voice wailed from the right side of the stiff, hospital bed. Mom. "Oh, hunny, I'm so glad you're awake! Are you okay? How do you feel? Oh, God, you scared me! Nurse!" Her mother called for assistance, not sure what to do with a teenager who just became consience after had trying to drown and bleed herself to death. A bustly nurse hustled in with a frantic look on her face. She looked like a lady who baked cookies and smiled often. She was a bit plump and had a redish tint to her cheeks. She reminded Rowan of Santa's wife. "Yes, miss, can I help you?" Then seeing my mothers torn emotions on her face, then looked at me. "Oh, you're awake! How are you?" Rowan didn't answer, but tears flowed down her cheeks as she realized what had happened. The blade, the blood flowing, the water running, filling her lungs...the glowing, blue butterfly.

   "You." she snarled, looking at her mother who looked at her in surprise. "You did this, you brought me here. I'm not supposed to be here, aI wasn't supposed to wake up! You ruined it, you ruin everything!" Her mother quickly looked away, at the ground, tears falling. She stayed in silent shock. Rowan began tearing at the tubes attached to her, the nurse hurried to her, trying to stop her before she did any damage. She pressed the button over the bed that would page the doctor, and after two minutes of screaming, crying, and struggling, he walked in. He came to Rowans side, gently pushing the nurse out of the way. He stroked her hair in a fatherly way. Like the father she never met.

   "Better now?" he whispered to her, she looked at her mother before  she answered. "I don't want to be here, but I'm not going home with her." She kept her eyes on her mother, making a point. He nodded before saying, "Don't worry, you aren't going home. Not just yet." She wanted to ask what he meant, but she already knew. He stood, smiled at her, turned on his heel, and walked out, nodding at her mother before he left the room.

   After another day at the hospital, her mother drove her to the mental hospital. She hadn't said a word to Rowan since the day she woke up. Rowan didn't mind, she loved it.

   "I only did it because I didn't want to loose you." Her mother told her in the car on the way to the institute. Rowan looked at her in surprise, then snorted and slouched in the passenger seat again. She wouldn't talk to her mother until she got out, maybe not even then.

   She had to meet first with her new psychiatrist. Dr.Meyers. She was sitting in the chair across from his own. He wore a sweater vest and glasses. Behind the glasses were blue eyes that seemed kind enough. He took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and ran a hand through his curly, graying-brown hair. "Rowan. I know that people like you don't like to talk about things such as your situation, but if you want to get out of here, you have to cooperate with me."

"People like me?" she repeated, "You don't know anything about me."

"Is that so?" he asked, watching her closely. "I know that you like to write. You sit in your room, in the dark or take walks in the rain, listening to music."

She blinked in surprise, he was spot on. "You just sit and think to yourself about everything and anything. What happened that day, who made you happy, who smiled at you, why you're still alive, why you don't want to be here, your parents, your troubles, and your pain."

Rowan realized she was crying and she wiped her tears away with her sleave. He handed her a tissue and she took it greatfully. He stayed silent as she blew her nose. "I know you, but you need to know yourself. That's why you're here. Can I ask you to do something that might be hard for you?" She just looked at him and shrugged. "May I see your arms...?" She sat there a moment and took in what he meant. She slowly pulled her sleaves up to show her arm that were covered with bandages. She began unravling them to show the cuts that took part in her almost-death.

   The cuts covered her arms, some of them had stitches in them, they were so deep. They were still bright red, having them been only three days old. As she looked at them, she began crying again. This time, she couldn't stop the tears; Dr. Meyers handed her the tissue box tis time. He waited for her to calm herself, and told her she was done for the day. A lady in yellow scrubs walked in, taking Rowan to her room. She sat her on her bed and rewraped her bandages around her arms.

   "I'm sorry, miss. I know this is hard for you. Being here." the nurse said to her, trying to comfort her. "I see alot of troubled teens here. They're just lost. They want love, not sympathy. I can give you that." She finnished wrapping her arms and looked up at her. She had chocolate brown eyes that were a shade darker than her skin. She smiled at Rowan, it was a warm smile that Rowan grew used to over the month she stayed at the mental hospital. Patty, is what Rowan called her. They became friends and her closest friend. The days were scheduled and she never once called her mother or asked her to visit. She met with Dr.Meyers every day for an hour and they talked about alot. As the days passed, she became happier, less dark. She was ready to go home.