Generally, the Hospital

It  is cold. And white. There is a light shinning in my face. The light at the end of the tunnel? Possibly. But, no, my luck isn't that good. There are voices beside me, angry voices. Uh-oh. Should I go back to Lala land? No, that option's passed. Guess I've got to wake up. Hail Maryfullofgrace.
My eyes pop open. Mom is sitting on my left, her face red and free of makeup. Grandma is at the foot of the bed, her mascara all over her face. Both look exhausted, I feel a little stoned, and wonder vaguely why I'm here. Looking down at the hand that Mom is gently patting, I see the white gauz wrapped from wrist to elbow. Oh. That was why.
As everything floats back, I make a funny sounding noise in the back of my throat, somewhere between a cough and a sigh. Mom and Grandma both look up and break into relieved smiles.
"Thank God you're awake, baby." Mom squeezes my hand. "Jayson's on his way. He'll be here tomorrow morning."
"How long was I out for?" my voice feels scratchy, and my mind is working overtime. Jayson? Why is he on the way? How bad did they think that I was?
"A couple of days. You..." Mom stops, swallowing. There is an audible click in her throat. "Lots of blood. We were afraid- so afraid."
Grandma squeezes my foot, the voice of reason. "But you're awake now, so it's ok."
If I had the strength, I would roll my eyes- that is just like Grandma: living in her own world, thinking that everything will turn out just fine, no matter what happens. As it is, I am so exhausted I can barely talk.
"Momma, I'm tired." Geez, I sound like I'm two. "Can I go back to sleep?"
She reaches up to stroke my hair. "Of course, baby. We'll be right here/"
I glance at the clock on the wall across from the bed: 10:45. There aren't any windows in the room, but judging from how quiet the hallway is, it is late at night. "No, Mamma, yall go home. Sleep. I'll see yall in the morning." She nods and leans down to kiss my cheek. There is a whiff of her perfume, the same kind that she has worn for as long as I can remember, and my eyes fill with tears.
After they leave, the room seems too empty, too scary. C'mon, I tell myself, you'll be nineteen in a few weeks, you don't need your mommy to come sit up with you and keep the monsters away. Despite the stern talking-to though, I still can't sleep. After awhile I give up and stare at the wall, trying to piece everything together in the murky swamp of my mind. Everything comes at me like pictures, being run through full speed: Grant breaking up with me; Maria calling me nasty things; clubs; shots; fallng over myself to go throw up; sharp, stabbing pains in my stomach that bring me to my knees; the drugstore; a cashier's fface saying "God bless you, honey."; a red plus sign staring at me; my face, white as a ghost in the mirror; the phone call, pleading; waiting; fighting, names, accusations, the dreaded word- abortion; leaving angry; wanting this thing, this piece of him, out of me. A razor, my arm, the blood, then...blackness.
At some point, I fall back into the middle-ground, that place just on the edge of sleep that ou can be yanked out of in a heartbeat. While there, drifitng along the rivers that lul you into the land of the sleeping, I can hear, as if from far away, the door to my room opening. I feel something soft brush my cheek and smile, even drugged up and half-asleep I recognize a kiss, and hear Jess' voice.
"Please don't leave, Cecillia." he whispers, puling my hand to his heeart. I feel its steady bass drum beat under my hand. "We all love you so much. Don't leave us."