The last few hours have been hazy, just like the last few years, but for a completely different reason. This time it was the painkillers that were knocking me out, and I spent most of my time sleeping. Between dozing off and waking up, I noticed there was another bed almost next to mine. It was a very comfortable recliner, well-cushioned and clean. And on it, curled up and covered because of the air conditioning, was Gavin.

His friend, Donovan, hadn’t returned. But I imagined he was busy with their company, since according to Gavin, it was mainly to him that everyone there reported. But my heart was still warmed by their words. Did the man with dark eyes and a gentle expression understand my gesture yesterday?

I myself had been surprised by my own behavior. I couldn’t care enough about other people’s emotions and understanding, so I let them think whatever they wanted about my physical and mental conditions. Their judgment had always been there, and it no longer made sense to try to justify myself. But I looked at those wealthy Americans, initially feeling anger at their privileged lives, yet I saw real empathy in their actions. It had been a long time since I’d seen that.

Gavin was openly emotional and didn’t try to hide it. He paid attention to every detail of my facial expressions, gestures, everything. And here he was, trading the comfort of a possible king-size bed and fluffy Swedish pillows for a hospital recliner.

To keep me company. He knew I would probably freak out (more than I already had) in a place like this.

I had eaten at some point, either during the day or night, I couldn’t tell. I took a few bites of rice with vegetables but drank a lot of papaya juice. Gavin constantly encouraged me to eat and silently praised me when I managed to chew and swallow. He didn’t touch me at any point, only approached in his own way, sometimes with his fingers mere centimeters from mine. But he must have understood by now that I didn’t want to be touched by anyone. I’d bet a candy that, by this point, Donovan knew it too.

Bath time was a bit more complicated. A nurse named Beatriz said she would help me. She pointed to a door that led to the bathroom. She also said Gavin could come along since he was my guardian. I found the word funny somewhere in my subconscious, but not enough to smile. So I looked at her and the door, sighing in resignation.

I wouldn’t drown myself again. For terribly obvious reasons, I think I could never get near a bathtub again.

I got off the bed. I was wearing those horrible hospital clothes and remembered putting them on at some point between my blackouts. The memories were all confused. The nurse approached to help, but before she could do anything, Gavin intervened:

“Wait.”

Beatriz looked at him, waiting, and he came over to me as gently as always.

“Can you walk to the bathroom by yourself?”

I could. My feet were steady enough. I nodded subtly.

“Alright. We won’t touch you, just watch over you. And I promise to give you the necessary privacy. Can you shower by yourself?”

Slight tremors took over my hands, but I nodded again.

To prove it to him, I started walking slowly but steadily to the pristine door. I turned the handle and found a simple shower stall with frosted glass doors, or what seemed like it. I looked up. The shower temperature was set to “winter.” A hot shower in front of a stranger and Gavin. Not that Gavin wasn’t a stranger...

“Can I help you undress?” Beatriz asked.

Totally without strength to do anything, I just waited until she came over. Her fingers occasionally touched my skin, and I heard the voices and felt the sensations. But I didn’t let it show. Gavin was by the door, facing away, respecting my body as he said he would. And I knew he would only leave if something very bad happened.

He really cared about me. I didn’t know what to do with that information.

The desire to die was still there, but the strange thing was that I didn’t want to do it near him. Well, not near him or Donovan. And that was weirder than anything else, since, as I had said, I couldn’t care less about people’s judgment. But I felt that these two men didn’t judge me, instead they put themselves in my place. They had enough resources to put me in some asylum, but they chose to intervene personally. Their kind words didn’t seem rehearsed or mechanical. They came from the heart.

Now undressed, the nurse turned on the shower as I stepped into the stall. The water started falling on my back, and I felt the drops licking my skin. A brief mist formed due to the temperature.

Then Beatriz pointed to the cleaning products. I looked at her. Obviously, she already knew about my condition, as she didn’t seem horrified by the cuts and scars covering my body, nor by my thinness. She just watched me with politeness and assertiveness, as if she wanted to convey safety and even a bit of authority.

I started cleaning myself. The scent of lavender soap entered my nostrils, and I let out a sigh unintentionally. Gavin looked to the side, showing his profile clearly. Then he gave a small encouraging smile, still without turning back, and resumed looking at the empty room.

I began soaping my neck, legs, arms, and what I could reach on my back. I also did my best to clean my intimate parts. I rinsed off quickly, and as I did, Beatriz took the white, fluffy towel hanging on the wall and handed it to me.

I held the towel with both hands, staring at it. Then I started drying myself. When I noticed there were no other clothes to wear, I heard Gavin murmuring something as he closed the door. Then I heard another voice, probably from another nurse. Seconds later, I heard him knocking on the door and telling Beatriz that the new clothes had arrived.

The nurse slightly opened the door, thanked him, and handed me each piece of clothing as I got dressed. At least these were thicker and warmer than the others.

With the bath finished, we finally left the bathroom. Beatriz looked at me, slightly satisfied or something, and made only a small remark about my hair, still tangled and tied in a loose bun. Gavin intervened.

“I tied her hair. I think we can detangle it later when she’s up for it.”

I returned to the bed silently and lay down. They kept talking, but lethargy was hitting me hard again, and I didn’t want to hear their words. So my mind emptied, and I simply wasn’t there anymore.

It wouldn’t be long before I was discharged. At some point, there would be no white walls, cameras, or people in white preventing another attempt.

And that’s not a foreboding or a curse. It’s simply a fact.