Post by Shelby on Mar 20, 2019 2:08:28 GMT
Sure, maybe being alone in this situation wasn't the most ideal; anyone could sneak in the room while they were gone, despite the security presence along the hall, and do something to her; harass her, take advantage of her, or even worse... But she needed her space. She needed to think. Mostly about Arthur and their situation, and she knew that she wouldn't be able to do that while he, Susan and her mother were here. As much as she knew they wanted to stay, they needed to go, if only so that they could get a little bit of sleep at home.
"Are you sure you don't want at least one of us to stay," Olivia asked, concerned. "Just in case."
Chardonnay shook her head. "I'm in the hospital. There's security. Nothing's going to happen."
Olivia's face fell. "...Okay then. I understand. I get it." But she was still sad, still worried. But when Chardonnay was like this, she wasn't going to argue about it with her. If she needed her space, she needed her space. Maybe it'd even make her feel a little better.
After their goodbyes, in which Olivia gave Chardonnay a long hug--probably too long, where Chardonnay muttered to her mother that she wasn't dead--Chardonnay was left by her lonesome. And after some time, she started to regret it. Why hadn't she asked one of them to stay.
It was just her... And the baby. The baby that she could still feel shuffling around in there occasionally, as if she was trying to get comfortable. You and me both, Chardonnay thought, and then frowned. Talking to the baby now? She really was losing her mind.
It didn't help when she started looking through her phone and looked on the internet at social medial to see what people were saying about her. Speculating about who got her pregnant, who would even want to get her pregnant, how she'd probably kill that baby because of all of this. Fuck those people. Fuck everything... The anger was boiling. How fucking dare these people write that shit about her. How dare they call her parents out, as if she wasn't a grown adult who could get pregnant. Why, just why did people have to be like this? Why the fuck did they care about her? Her face burned, and then it flushed. Her eyes started to water. Fuck it.
Eventually she got out of bed, tired of laying down, tired of being motionless. It was a struggle to get out of bed, but with a few grunts she got herself out. She wobbled to her feet, her head still spinning, and propped herself up against the bed with her closest arm. "Fuck..."
"As much as I hate the concept of bed rest, I would say that it's probably in your best interest to not be getting up right now, especially with no one here to catch you."
Startled at Dr. Marshall's voice, Chardonnay scoffed after a moment. "I'm not going to pass out again."
"With your blood pressure levels, I wouldn't be so sure of that." But he didn't make her lay back down. Instead, he walked over to Chardonnay to help prop her up. They didn't say anything to each other. Eventually Chardonnay sat down on the couch closest to the window and looked out it.
"The shades here are shit..."
"I'll put that in the suggestion box next staff meeting." Chardonnay scoffed. Dr. Marshall sighed. "I need to talk to you." He sat down next to her and pulled out a couple of pamphlets out of his pocket. Before handing them to her he looked down. "I'm actually glad the other's aren't here with you. It's something private. You don't need to tell them unless you want to, and I won't say anything about it to them. But I think you should see a therapist about all of this. Someone that can help more than I can with your mental stability about all of this."
Chardonnay said nothing. She looked down at her lap. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. Women do it all the time, especially when they're pregnant. It's important. It's... We don't want this to happen again to you. We don't want something worse to happen, and if I hadn't convinced the other doctors here you would have been put on suicide watch... But I know that that's not what happened. I know that that's not what you want... But I also know the signs of depression. I may not be in that field, but I know pregnancy, and I've seen women go through this. You're not alone. It's not unusual."
But it wasn't what Chardonnay wanted to hear. She didn't want to hear that she was depressed. She didn't want to hear that something was mentally wrong with her, because she had always seen herself as a strong minded person. Had always seen herself as never needing help, had always laughed at people who needed to talk to strangers about their problems in order to figure their lives out... But...
Her throat started to swell. That squirming was back. "I don't..."
Dr. Marshall sighed. "I'm not going to make you do it; I can't make you do it. It's a decision that you have to make on your own for yourself. But just know that I think it would be best for you." He handed her the pamphlets and papers he had brought with him. "There are even support groups you could go to for women who are feeling the same way; who aren't sure about their pregnancy or a baby." He paused. "I can't say that I know how you're feeling, or what you're going through, but I do know that if nothing changes, and if you keep getting stressed like this... You could die. This is serious."
Chardonnay said nothing, and as the silence went on, Dr. Marshall stood up. "I'll help you back to bed." When he left the room, Chardonnay could only lay there. Talk to a therapist. Let her feelings out... She could die if nothing about her stress changed... Depressed. Was she depressed?
Yes. Even she knew. But that made her feel worse.
She didn't sleep much that night, as if she had though she would. She kept looking at the pamphlets, and eventually hid them away in her purse, lingering on one for longer than usual. Depression. Depressed. Pregnant...
"Are you sure you don't want at least one of us to stay," Olivia asked, concerned. "Just in case."
Chardonnay shook her head. "I'm in the hospital. There's security. Nothing's going to happen."
Olivia's face fell. "...Okay then. I understand. I get it." But she was still sad, still worried. But when Chardonnay was like this, she wasn't going to argue about it with her. If she needed her space, she needed her space. Maybe it'd even make her feel a little better.
After their goodbyes, in which Olivia gave Chardonnay a long hug--probably too long, where Chardonnay muttered to her mother that she wasn't dead--Chardonnay was left by her lonesome. And after some time, she started to regret it. Why hadn't she asked one of them to stay.
It was just her... And the baby. The baby that she could still feel shuffling around in there occasionally, as if she was trying to get comfortable. You and me both, Chardonnay thought, and then frowned. Talking to the baby now? She really was losing her mind.
It didn't help when she started looking through her phone and looked on the internet at social medial to see what people were saying about her. Speculating about who got her pregnant, who would even want to get her pregnant, how she'd probably kill that baby because of all of this. Fuck those people. Fuck everything... The anger was boiling. How fucking dare these people write that shit about her. How dare they call her parents out, as if she wasn't a grown adult who could get pregnant. Why, just why did people have to be like this? Why the fuck did they care about her? Her face burned, and then it flushed. Her eyes started to water. Fuck it.
Eventually she got out of bed, tired of laying down, tired of being motionless. It was a struggle to get out of bed, but with a few grunts she got herself out. She wobbled to her feet, her head still spinning, and propped herself up against the bed with her closest arm. "Fuck..."
"As much as I hate the concept of bed rest, I would say that it's probably in your best interest to not be getting up right now, especially with no one here to catch you."
Startled at Dr. Marshall's voice, Chardonnay scoffed after a moment. "I'm not going to pass out again."
"With your blood pressure levels, I wouldn't be so sure of that." But he didn't make her lay back down. Instead, he walked over to Chardonnay to help prop her up. They didn't say anything to each other. Eventually Chardonnay sat down on the couch closest to the window and looked out it.
"The shades here are shit..."
"I'll put that in the suggestion box next staff meeting." Chardonnay scoffed. Dr. Marshall sighed. "I need to talk to you." He sat down next to her and pulled out a couple of pamphlets out of his pocket. Before handing them to her he looked down. "I'm actually glad the other's aren't here with you. It's something private. You don't need to tell them unless you want to, and I won't say anything about it to them. But I think you should see a therapist about all of this. Someone that can help more than I can with your mental stability about all of this."
Chardonnay said nothing. She looked down at her lap. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. Women do it all the time, especially when they're pregnant. It's important. It's... We don't want this to happen again to you. We don't want something worse to happen, and if I hadn't convinced the other doctors here you would have been put on suicide watch... But I know that that's not what happened. I know that that's not what you want... But I also know the signs of depression. I may not be in that field, but I know pregnancy, and I've seen women go through this. You're not alone. It's not unusual."
But it wasn't what Chardonnay wanted to hear. She didn't want to hear that she was depressed. She didn't want to hear that something was mentally wrong with her, because she had always seen herself as a strong minded person. Had always seen herself as never needing help, had always laughed at people who needed to talk to strangers about their problems in order to figure their lives out... But...
Her throat started to swell. That squirming was back. "I don't..."
Dr. Marshall sighed. "I'm not going to make you do it; I can't make you do it. It's a decision that you have to make on your own for yourself. But just know that I think it would be best for you." He handed her the pamphlets and papers he had brought with him. "There are even support groups you could go to for women who are feeling the same way; who aren't sure about their pregnancy or a baby." He paused. "I can't say that I know how you're feeling, or what you're going through, but I do know that if nothing changes, and if you keep getting stressed like this... You could die. This is serious."
Chardonnay said nothing, and as the silence went on, Dr. Marshall stood up. "I'll help you back to bed." When he left the room, Chardonnay could only lay there. Talk to a therapist. Let her feelings out... She could die if nothing about her stress changed... Depressed. Was she depressed?
Yes. Even she knew. But that made her feel worse.
She didn't sleep much that night, as if she had though she would. She kept looking at the pamphlets, and eventually hid them away in her purse, lingering on one for longer than usual. Depression. Depressed. Pregnant...