Disclaimer: Nah. DGM's not mine.
AN: Spent 3 hours in the morn (1 - 3AM) working on this, rushed to post this up after a few hours of nap (8AM)...so please review...
When questioned by the nurses, she would usually reply that she didn't know when her insomnia started. It was, more or less a habit her body 'warmed up' to – seeing as she seem to while away the time without her knowledge, and hence, sleeping for less than the recommended time (which is, 8 hours, take or give 3 hours).
She should have seen it coming.
The symptoms of depression were staring at her – the reduced 'drive' to accomplish her assigned work, the severe loss of appetite and sleep, feeling down and irritated more than usual. Even her friends showed concern! She briefly wonders why she hadn't noticed their expressions (of worry) before…
She sighed; all the pondering had given her a headache. Her dull hospital environment was not helping. She used to think that the big gaping windows staring out towards the gardens are green – full of lush greenery swaying to the wind, with chirping birds, fluttering butterflies, and happy laughter of hospital patients…
She was wrong. Well, not that the scene she had imagined outside her hospital ward was wrong, quite the contrary – nurses, and most of the times, families, with the hospital patients would stroll around the garden outside.
But her heart was not on it.
She would see nothing…heartwarming about the scene outside. It serves to only make her heart heavier, more guilt ridden. She would usually cut herself off from thinking. Thinking…it always arrives at the same thing – suicide.
He was born blind.
Growing under the care of nurses (his mother was one), he learnt to control (his frustration at being born blind), understand (Braille etc.), and appreciate (for he was told the world was not as…nice) this disability of his.
To give credit to his mum would be unfair, for God was another being that made his life…warmer. He learnt to accept himself, for one (very important) thing.
He continued aiding the hospital despite having a deceased mother. It was here, at the hospital, where people wouldn't see him as a liability, as a burden. It's not that he's one, no! People are just too assumptive sometimes.
Furthermore…the hospital emits a healing sort of 'power'. Laughter (the light, resounding, chiming ones) could always be heard in and out of the hospital, unending stream of 'thanks' would bubble out of people's lips…a homey, warm feeling.
The day she met a tall (and naturally blind, she later found out) giant was when she got really sick. She have caught the fever bug, and her depression – as always – wormed its way into her, worsening the ache in her heart.
An overdose of the antidepressants did not work; she still felt the pain – the thudding headaches, the sharp pains in her bones…and (most painfully) heart. To remedy the problem (in a way), she clawed at herself, inflicting pain upon herself to distract from the inward pain.
She was stopped before she drew blood, and sobbingly, wonders if she should be grateful or hateful of the giant that did so. It hurt so much! Not that the clawing was any effective…
The doctors rushed in soon after and drowsed her. She couldn't recall when he had pressed the button that hung beside her bed, and (depressingly) thinks that he'll disappear when she wakes up – like all the others before him.
When she did wake up, he wasn't gone, as she have had predicted before being dragged into the sandman's grasp. He was humming a tune, a cheerful tune, while sitting on the wooden chair. It made her heart twist.
"You're awake." He broke into a smile, abruptly stopping the tune he was humming. She nodded, and seeing his closed eyelids, berated herself for being stupid. She has a mouth, for God's sake! From habits, she stopped her mental trek to insanity.
"Y-Yes." She whispered cautiously, "Who're you?"
"Noise Marie, nice to meet you." Her eyes widened as bits of information fished itself out of the 'stormy sea'. If memory serves, the giant before her was blind, and constantly helps out in the hospital. She frowned as she caught a final piece of information – he's quite popular in the hospital, or so the nurses and doctors tell her…
"Nice to meet you too. I'm Miranda Lotto." She managed to croak out, mind finally noticing that her mouth was cotton dry. The giant – Noise, he told that she could call him that – offered her the glass of water placed beside her 'bed-table'. Fingers trembling a little (she was weak after suffering from a fever), she accepted it with gratitude.
He took it from her when she was done and made his way to the sink, washing the glass, and placing it in the cabinet above the sink. She was amazed at how he was able to do so, even with his sight. Or rather, lack thereof.
For several days, he remained a constant presence in her dreary ward.
It was cold in Miranda's ward, he realised after a few days of visiting. Although she left the windows open, allowing the summer breeze to float or roll in, her room would still be icy.
Another factor, he decided, would be the ill woman herself. Her eyes are often glazed over, and he could hear when she was really smiling – which is none. Hearing the happy voices and tugs of mouths of the nurses who have visited Miranda, he found out that she gave fake smiles. None of them were genuine.
So he spoke.
"Why can't you smile?" he asked silently.
The frozen woman answered after a pregnant silence, "I-I…"
He remained silent, unmoving, yet calm and at ease. The woman seemed to have relaxed enough (after a while) to pour her history out. He listened intently, never making a gesture till she ended. In brief, the woman…she doesn't deem herself worthy of others' understanding.
He sighed silently, and hugged her hunched over, (silently) crying form before leaving. He'll ask permission for her to leave her ward. Miranda needed to know that the light welcomes her, despite what she thinks.
He smiled as he entered her ward the following day. The doctor had readily agreed to Noise's request for Miranda to leave her ward.
"We're…going to the garden…?" she softly asks. He could hear the slight 'lightness' in her tone. He nodded in reply and gesturing to the wheelchair, asks, "Will you be alright enough to walk? Or do you need a wheelchair?"
"I'll walk." Miranda replied, clumsily getting out of her cot. She was thankful for when Noise took hold of her, supporting her. A small tug worked its way around her mouth. She was actually smiling!
Strolling around the garden, she took in the sight and smell of the greenery that surrounded them. She never really noticed how…wonderful they were close up then far away. Her heart then plummeted, knowing that she shouldn't even be here…
It was then that she heard a familiar verse, but one she couldn't remember as clearly, just floating barely out of her reach: "Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths." (Proverbs 3:5-6 [NKJV])
She blinked as she looked down at the (pale pink) lilac her hands clutched. Acceptance…
She blinked back the tears that threatened to spill. She had been so lonely and silly! To think she was alone, that she deserved no one! They were always there, she just didn't notice, too buried in her own…'faults'. She smiled, a genuine smile, as she rose, eyes cleared of the glaze and full of sparkling hope. She had never felt so…'light' in a long while!
A single tear dropped to the ground as she went back to her ward with a contented 'giant' alongside her, she was seen smiling all day long…
…to the delight of the hospital occupants. Noise truly was a 'healing angel'…
A few more months and she were fit to be discharged. The news gained (teasing) groans from her newly found friends, but they congratulated her of overcoming the 'obstacle'.
The relationship between Noise and herself had grown…in fact, progressed quite fast. The woman was naturally a likable and social person, but her depression 'cut her off'. The giant himself was glad for her, and will – without saying – be upset without her sunny (and sometimes, cloudy) personality.
They were also the much gossiped about 'couples' (when in fact, they were close friends) in the hospital.
The inhabitants of the hospital almost got what they wanted when Miranda was signed to be healthy and allowed to be discharged. It was an extremely heartwarming (if not hilarious) scene when Noise kissed her…and presented her a present later. They could only speculate what the farewell gift was. A bible? A flower? Medicine? (Yes, they could be quite hilarious sometimes…)