At this point, I felt as though hospitals followed me around wherever I went. I awoke to find myself in a familiar scratchy bed with the same tubes in my arm and one running up into my nose. It felt almost like a dream; my head was airy and drowsy. I didn't feel tired, instead strangely peaceful in a gentle way.

The room was quiet and there was a steady beeping that seemed as though it was far away and right next to me at the same time. As soon as I came to, everything around me was bright and I knew that I was in a white room. The drowsiness slowly began to wear off and I was engulfed in panic - an unfamiliar feeling for me.

I shifted in the bed and felt around me for something, anything. "It's okay, Kayla, I'm here," came the voice of my dad who had caught one of my flailing hands.

"Why am I here?"
"Never mind about that right now. Just focus on getting better."

I sat up in a panic, causing the beeping next to me to quicken. My dad tried to calm me but I ripped my hand from his. "Why won't you tell me what happened?"

He didn't answer and I was about to try and get up when a second voice stopped me. "Unless you want to faint again, I suggest you lie back down."

I paused and obeyed. The voice belonged to the same doctor who had treated me when I became blind. I sighed loudly and crossed my arms over my chest. "Would you care to explain?" I asked.

The doctor stepped forward and cleared her throat. "You suffered an overdose of oxycodone and your intake of oxygen decreased which caused you to fall into unconsciousness."

"Which means?"

"You took too many of those pills I prescribed you last time you were here. Those pills contain oxycodone which causes problems with breathing and other symptoms like dizziness. You then fainted and your parents found you unconscious and brought you here."

"Specific, I see," I said, leaning back and resting my head against the pillow.

"Symptoms associated with oxycodone can be fatal, Kayla. I suggest you discontinue the use of painkillers for now."

"Kayla, how long have you been using those pills?" my dad asked, a trace of anger in his voice.

"Long enough."

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"If you think I, a teenager, would willingly admit to my parents that I have a fatal addiction then get your head straight."

"Kayla! Don't talk to your father like that," my mom said and I assumed she had just entered the room.

"It's ok, Belinda," my dad contributed and left the bedside.

The conversation ended then. I was disconnected from the heart rate machine but the oxygen tubes remained in my nose and the IV in my arm. I was told I would be going home the next day and would be under strict supervision from my parents. I was left alone after what felt like years and instructed to rest or in other words, do nothing while wishing I were at home.

Time passed slower than ever with the occasional nurse slipping in and checking on me. Each time finding me awake, they would ask if I felt okay. I nodded but really I didn't. It wasn't a headache or dizziness or breathlessness. It wasn't anything physical, no, it was emotional. I wasn't fine and it scared me. I needed to feel nothing - that was the only way to survive. But without the drugs in my system, I fell prey to my own mind.

After I was given lunch which I didn't eat, my mom came in again and told me that Matthew was here to see me. Immediately guilt surged through me - I had pushed him away and still he came to see me. I mentally cursed my emotions for about the millionth time. I'd been numb for so long that I hadn't even noticed.

Matthew stepped inside and I knew he had stopped in the doorway to make sure of what he was doing. Then he continued around to the bedside and my mom closed the door. He said nothing as he neared me. Instead, to my surprise, he wordlessly enveloped me in a tight hug and didn't let go for a while. I inhaled his scent and immediately felt comforted by his woollen jersey on my cheek.

"I was so worried," he said quietly from where his head rested on my shoulder. I squeezed my eyes shut to prevent the tears that were pricking them from forming and tightened my arm around him. If this was what I was doing to my friends, then I didn't want to hurt anyone anymore. I thought I'd been protecting others and me, from myself. I guess that had backfired.

"I'm sorry," I choked out, burying my head deeper into the fabric of his jersey and sensing the beat of his heart underneath.

"I'm sorry, too."

I didn't question his apology, even though I wasn't quite sure what he was apologising for. He didn't do anything wrong.

He pulled away then said, "I brought doughnuts, just like before. Hospitals are a wonderful thing, aren't they?"

I gave a small smile, the first in centuries. "How did you remember?" I took the paper bag he handed me.

"Some things just stick in your mind, am I right?"

I agreed, and then placed the bag next to me for later. "Is your mom well?"

"Seriously? You're in hospital and you're concerned for her?" I said nothing in response. "She's...happy. It's a nice change. But it's India I worry about."

"Oh?"

"Sometimes I think you two are so similar," he chuckled sadly. "She thinks she's strong so she keeps herself locked up away from me. I wish I could help her but she shuts me out." He inhaled in the quiet. "India's bullied by her friends and she won't talk about it. It kills me to see her in pain."

I held my head low and listened intently. The least I could do after all he'd done for me was listen.

"I don't know what to do, Kayla. I want to help her, I love her." He sounded on the verge of tears. "I love her so much." I reached out to comfort him and he grabbed my hand as if it would somehow console him. "She won't let me help her. You won't let me help you."

"Matthew, I-"

"I love you, Kayla. Let me help you." He was gripping my hand tightly now, almost in a desperate panic. He sniffed.

"I love you, too-"

"No," he forced out. "You don't understand-"

"I do. It's okay, Matthew. We'll figure it out. Your sister will be alright."

"Kayla, this isn't about my sister," he said and I frowned at the anxiety in his voice. He was clutching at both of my hands now and I felt my nerves raising as he tried not to cry.

"Then who is it ab-"

"I love you, Kayla. As in, I'm in love with you." And because he didn't start to ramble in nervousness, I knew that he truly was being serious, even more so than usual. I felt myself grow still as if time had ceased to carry on. All I thought was, what? I was so surprised that I hadn't realised I'd been sitting wordlessly for a few good minutes.

"Kayla?" Matthew asked quietly and I winced at the hurt in his voice. All I wanted was to hug him and say that I'm sorry for everything I'd ever done to hurt him, that he didn't deserve any of the pain thrown his way. But before I could respond, the door burst open and the excited voices of Chloe and Jordan shot through the loudest silence I'd ever heard.

I frowned in confusion as they began to sing the tune of 'Happy Birthday', rather badly. They came nearer and the song trailed off.

"Were we interrupting something?" Jordan asked awkwardly and immediately Matthew dropped my hands from his hold. I turned to him.

"Happy birthday, Kayla," he murmured.

"Wait, what?" I asked, perplexed at the situation. Chloe laughed and came forward to give me a tight hug.

"It's the 18th of May," she explained. "Your birthday."

"Happy birthday!" cried Jordan and hugged me too. "Now, cake or cake?"

I laughed. "I guess I have no choice." I felt a warmth growing within me. My friends weren't angry or disappointed in me. They weren't being rude or spiteful like I had been. They were doing what they did best. Loving.

I heard the strike of matches and then the scent of smoke floated towards me as they lit the candles on the cake. Then all three of them began singing again, with only Matthew's voice actually in tune. He was an amazing singer, but I realised I hadn't heard him sing in a while. Their voices filled the room with warmth and I couldn't help but smile at their efforts.

I felt happier than I had in a long time, all because I had allowed others into my life. I knew then, that shutting people out was the wrong thing to do. They came near the end of the song, mentioning Camryn's name as well as my own, then cheered when they finished. I felt an absence. It wasn't just my birthday, it was Camryn's too. But I also felt content, because she would want me to enjoy our day.

And I certainly was enjoying it.