Living on the Run

On the Run

     I blinked my eyes as slits of sunlight made its way into my vision. My whole body ached, that was the first thing I noticed. The second thing I noticed was the sounds of a heart monitor. Where was I? I lifted my body the best I could from the scratchy sheets underneath me. I rubbed my eyes roughly, then stretched my stiff limps above my head. When I let my green gaze take in my environment, I realized I was in a hospital. How did this happen? I... can't remember a thing. 

     I was attached to a drip and my first instinct was to pry the needle out of my arm. That was when a blonde nurse came sauntering into the room. "Don't do that!" she said a bit harshly, dropping the papers she was looking at to grip my hands together. When I surrendered, she let go to pick up the fallen papers. I watched her with a tired expression. 

    "Why am I in the hospital?" I asked her, my voice groggy from not using it for who knows how many days. 

     "Your brother put you here," the nurse said simply with her eyes glued to some papers. I was not comprehending what she was saying, and I think she could tell when she said, "You should look yourself in the mirror." I immediately tried to get up, but that was before I remembered I was strapped to a drip. Instead, she searched through some drawers next to her and passed me a mini mirror. What I saw in my reflection absolutely appalled me. Stitches littered my face. I looked like some frankenstein monster. As I gazed through the mirror, I caught sight of more stitches covering the lengths of my arms. I tugged on my hospital gown to see even more stitches on my torso. 

     "What happened?!" 

      "Like I said," the nurse sounded annoyed, "your brother put you here. And he put his parents in a morgue." It felt like my whole world was being torn apart. I felt some tears begging to form and fall upon my pale and stitched complexion. "Not only that," the nurse began again, "he killed more people after running off." She shook her head in distaste. When she tore her gaze from the papers to me, her gaze softened as I began to shamelessly cry. She tried to pet my head, but I recoiled before her, ducking away from her outstetched hand. "Don't worry," she cooed. "I'm sure the police will find him and throw him behind bars. He's a monster after all." The nurse went back to her work, letting me cry without her stares.

.....wait. 

Did she just call my brother a 'monster'. 

  I felt something strange in me. I felt like I was losing my grip on reality. The whole world was shaking and I was trying my best to not fall. Then I began having weird thoughts. This woman needs to die. But I would never kill someone. That's not right. But for some reason, as the nurse had her back turned, my hand was naturally reaching for a pair of scissors laid on a metal tray beside my bed. I really tried to hold back. While one hand was making the reach, the other one was trying the very best to take back the hand. There was a battle going on inside my mind, and I felt like I was losing it. Finally, the scissors was gripped in my hand. The nurse was still babbling about something, but I was not paying attention. 

    As quietly as I could, I detached the drip from my arm, wincing in pain as I did so. The next target was to free myself from the heart monitor, taking the wires off. As I did so, the heart monitor stopped, grabbing the attention from the nurse. "What are you doing?" confusion evident in her voice. But when she got a good look at me, her demeanor changed, like a deer caught in the spotlight. Sunlight glistened off from the scissors in my hand. My demeanor changed as well: minutes ago I was just a scared little child, now there was murder on my mind. I swiftly got up and approached the nurse. 

     "Nobody calls my little bro a monster." I was seething in rage. In a matter of seconds, the scissors was being jabbed in this nurse's guts. I pulled out the scissors and plunged it again. I was in a frenzy, and lost complete control of myself. Blood splattered all over the floor, and some on my bedsheets and walls. My gown, which was once an off-white color, had blood tainted on the front as well. I lost count of how many times I stabbed this fresh corpse. I only stopped when I was able to gain control of myself. And also when I was sure this nurse would stay down forever. 

    "Crap." I muttered to myself when I realized I just killed someone. The evidence for this murder was everywhere. I guess you could say I would be caught red-handed. But that is not going to happen. I can get away with this, I thought with a tad bit of doubt. I noticed it was rather quiet outside my room. If I am able to clean up this mess (you see blood everywhere in hospitals, a couple paper towels soaked in blood should not be alarmed, right?) and clean myself up, I should be able to escape. So I did just that. I had some of my own clothes set aside in the room, one of the neighbors must have dropped it. I cleaned the mess in a hurry, threw on my clothes, and hid the nurse under the bed, which did not at all look inconspicuous. 

     Then out my room I was going. I had panic written all over my face. I even felt like I was experiencing an adrenaline rush as I navigated through the hospital. I got some weird looks from others in the halls, but chose to ignore them. Finally, I made it out of the hospital. So far, so good. I did not see any police cars or security people chasing after me. If I just got far enough from the crime scene, I could start my life over instead of being put behind bars. Or even a mental institution. 

   One thing that is clear is that my life will never be the same.