Chapter Text
Cloudy grey skies filled your vision. How much longer could you go through this? What once seemed like booming, loud voices now echoed through your ears like muffled, inauduible sounds.
You blink through the grit and tears, trying to decipher the blurry image presented in front of you.
"Sh..." A young woman, probably not older than the age of 26 caressed gently, injecting a harsh needle into your arm.
You wake up to the harsh sound of layered air conditioning. Upon first instincts, you look around the pale-ly colored room. You try to lift your left arm, but it was attached to a medical monitor, induced with a blood pressure fabric on your forearm. You wince when it squeezes harder, adding unnecessary pressure.
There is a soft, foggy silence in the room. So be it if it wasn't for the monitors, you would have been alone with your thoughts.
You wiggle your stiff toes, trying to get used to the alienated figure you are forced with. Looking up again, the room's shapes bend and twist, revealing an unsteady figure. You look down at your arms, filled with scars and bruises, all wobbly and wonky. They squirm and squiggle even without you moving them. Your breath hitches in your throat - you don't feel real.
Suddenly, you feel like you're floating. The bed seems to, too. You try and move your right arm but it feels as hard as rocks. Stiff and dry. You swallow your dehydrated spit, trying to evoke some sort of feeling with in you. Your eyes feel like they were burning, and your legs ache and fizzle with static. You can't move.
Third person. That's how you felt like. Within a series of movements and glances, you were no longer connected to your body. You stand up, although your body didn't. You looked down and saw your arms, bloody and discreetly bandaged. It panged your chest.
Fuck, when will this end?
knock knock
"Are you okay in there?" A nurse asks.
She lightly peeks in the doorframe and opens the door, as if trying to not get noticed.
"I heard some thumping noises. I just wanted to check to see if you were doing alright, kiddo."
You reluctantly nod, your throat aching with a mix of blood and pain.
She eyes you up and down for a moment, really processing how much of a mess you were.
"I brought you some food. It is the noon-time after all. You'll soon have to join the others at the group circle."
The nurse, who's name was Ayea, placed the tray down on the small circle table next to your bed.
She smiles, checks your blood pressure, temperature and muscles to see if they are in precise condition.
Before leaving the room, she winks, "It's going to be okay, kid. You're going to be okay."
Your catch your breath in your throat as the door clicks. Your stomach rumbles and twists, almost as if telling you you are out of time.
You reach for the apple, big, red, and crunchy-seeming. You were never one for apples, but your lips curved into a small smile while biting and tasting it. You had to admit - it tasted sweet, just how you like your things. Your meat.
Bite after bite, your hunger grew. You never realized how long you had gone without food. Your hands immediately reached for the diagonally-sliced toast. With the packaged plastic knife, you greedily put butter all over the bread as nicely as you could. You took a huge bite of it, really trying to savour its crunchy taste. You lick your lips when you were done. It felt good to be full!
Until it dawned on you. You devoured the food like a sinful, carnal animal. You dirty, disgusting pig. You fat whore, your mind yelled. Before you knew it, your feet were walking towards the bathroom and straight to the mirror, like a ritual of the sort. You look at your saddened reflection, turning to your sides and pulling up your shirt. Bloated. Of course you were. How couldn't you have been when you were so busy gobbling up food like someone who has never seen food before?
Tears well up in your eyes. "I'll never be perfect," you gasp, slapping and punching your thighs.
At the group circle, a chirpy-looking lady met us. She was smiling too much, it hurt your head. Her teeth were as a white as a toothpaste commercial's, and her caramel colored eyes shown like syrup in the artificial light. You couldn't help but feel... jealous.
"Hello, everybody!" She clapped, passing every person a blank sheet of paper. "Today, we are going to be talking about our feelings. Feelings are a very important part of our emotions. In fact, most of are actions are based around what we feel."
She goes on about interesting, common facts about feelings and emotions. Having heard this talk in your life way too many times, you start to feel that the group circle was going to be much of a drag.
You eye the blank paper given to you. So much things could fill its worth less being. You hold your hand in a writing manner, ready to write your name down on the paper. You blink.
I don't have a pencil...
In the back of your mind, you see a pencil lying on the side of the table, untouched. Raw.
You stretch out your right hand, bent on picking up the fresh, new #0.2 pencil. Before your fingers slip on it, a ruddy, pale-peached hand grabs it, his grip on it hard.
You gasp, surprised at the sudden movement.
"Names Mello," gruffs the boy, his voice low and full of an aggressive nature. He starts writing on the paper, sketching a half-assed portrait of a guy with goggles and.... red-colored hair?
You take the moment to look up at his face. You hadn't even noticed he had sit next to you, or anyone else for that matter. His eyes were a piercing blue, his hair messy and blonde. He could've been mistaken a model. That is, if he did not have that nasty, concerning scar on the side of his face.
"I.. I was about to use that pencil," you mutter quietly, your mood being brought back to square one.
He gives you a weird look. The twig-like girl next to you does, too, as if knowing to not talk back to the boy.
"I was about to use that pencil," he chuckles, twirling it around between his fingers, man-spreading in the seat.
You indistinctly scoot your chair away from him. One things for sure, you were definitely going to stay away from this guy.
For the rest of the group circle, the bright instructor made everyone take turns expressing their feelings for the day. Some people hesitated, saying that they were either not comfortable, or ready to share. The rest, cocky and ready to get out of the place as soon as possible, poured their whole life story out. Mello decides to share too, saying that this place is full of shit and everybody should go eat dirt. You laugh a little.
You can't hold it any longer.
Sleep has chosen you as it's next victim. Your eyelids soon found it a big chore to keep it open, preferring to keep it closed. You curl yourself up into your arms on the table, resting your head on one side. Sleep was chasing you, your brain pushing you off the edge whilst your heart adamantly refused, trying to teeter off the edge.
"Mmm. Had such a good rest now, didn't you?" A blonde girl girl says, running her fingers through your hair.
"Awe, she sorta looks like a seal!" Coos another.
"She looks like a dying puppy I saw once," Mello retorts, messing with the cap of a soda can bottle.
You snap yourself back awake, observing the giggles and snickers.
"Hm, what time is it?" You question, rubbing your eyes before forcing them shut.
A night shift nurse touches your shoulder in a calming manner. "It's almost time for bed, kiddo." He lowers down to your ear and whispers, "You rather smell. I'd advise you to go shower immediately. "
You jerk up your seat, smelling your armpits.
"You're right," you sigh, your cheeks turning a flush crimson. "I should take a shower."
The nurse checks your blood pressure, making sure it is a-okay before you shower. He tells you to wait, as he will go and get you a few towels and hospital scrubs. You look down at your scruffy Beatles shirt and Snoopy shorts. Only God knew how long you had been wearing those clothing articles.
Mello coughs, holding a cigarette close to his mouth. "He's right, you do kind of stink."
You eye him, your eyes stuck on his face as he sniffs and exhales the cigarette, slightly man-spreading on his seat.
The blonde girl who woke you up walks over to your table, all giggly and happy. Her eyes have a reddish glow to them, but, hey, who are you to complain? She waves at you politely, before looking over to Mello and saying, "Hey! You can't do that indoors!"
She reaches for the cigarette butt, pulling it away from him.
He lunges at her, pulling a fistful of her silky hair and grabbing her neck. Her face turns a beet red. Shes struggling for air.
Your breathing starts to get a little unequal. You don't know what to do.
Without thinking, you hit the back of his arm. He roughly lets go of her and slaps your face.
You yelp in pain like a little puppy, your face stinging. Unfortunately, a small, hidden part of your soul... enjoys the pain? It's begging for more.
He gets on top of you and starts punching your body, like his own personal punching bag.
Before he could wrap his hands around your neck, the burse returns back, shock written all over his face.
"Are you okay?" The male nurse asks, his arms full of towels, lotion and strawberry-scented soap. He looks over at boy on top of you.
"Mello," he sighs, his voice full of expectancy, as he already knew something of the sort would happen. "Get off of them. Now."
Mello gets off you, glaring at you before the nurse takes him by his shoulders and leads him toward a more discreet, quite place of the unit.
You don't care what will happen to Mello, do you?
It's not like you could, anyway. Your body aches with pain, and your face still stings.
The blonde-haired girl looks at you, tears flooding her eyes.
"Oh my gosh!" She squeaks, rushing over to you and picking you up the ground. "I am so sorry, I didn't mean for that to happen..."
"You wince in pain. "It's okay," you smile. " I just had to defend you. You looked like you couldn't breathe."
You were actually doing quite fine. After the little fight, Mello has decided to stay away from you. You could always feel his gaze on you, though. Every time you came out of the girls restroom, with the bell ringing and all, he just had to look your way. On rare occasions, he would hand you a free pencil, which was quite ironic considering the fact that the reason you guys even had unfortunate tension over a pencil. During lunch, you would feel his piercing blue eyes undressing you mentally. You could’ve sworn he was eyeballing you all evil like during group circles. During the day, he would find ways to accidentally bump into you, creating a small talk out of “Oops, sorry!” And “My bad.” He would orbit your existence constantly. He couldn’t even muster up a small sorry for the fact he had hit you and beaten the blonde girl up!
Were you going nuts?