Dr. Barlowe of the Clinic of meta rehabilitation closed his office doors and heaved a sigh. A long day of dealing with addicts and such. Done twisting the lock with his keys after. Made sure it was secure. The old lightbulb over his head flickering from the done years. Blinking on the gross lime walls and just as equal, drawn floors.
Headed down the corridor, he whistled a tune and jangled his keys in his hands. Working like this for 7 years, the habit grew on him eventually. Just like the secondary trauma. Undoubtedly, at a facility like a clinic for meta rehab. You wouldn't wanna know the things that go on with the crazed. Particularly the meta obsessed, no lifers.
Mainly because the newer decade has invented brain-consuming media and devices. We no longer try finding entertainment any longer. And we already have it right under our noses. And that paired with lonesomeness, nothing can beat it. Their dopamine has been ruined since babies. As parents rely on electronics at such a young age for their new-borns. Nothing will ever be as amazing as meta. Everyone says. But Dr. Barlowe is an exception, he and a minority of people are humanity's last hope. The ones that can defy the addiction.
As he made a turn for the left corner, a surprising stranger with wheaty hair met his gaze with their glossy eyes. That seemed to have lit up when they came in contact with the sight of him, fortunately. Came in with a ghastly looking woman with ebony locks and dark skin in a wheelchair. Who looked seconds away from death.
The blonde looked like they had been crying, blotchy face, frustration in their tattered hair. Their companion in the chair, dead faced, staring into infinity. Must not have been aware, she looked extremely tired. Rings around her eyes and cracked lips, shirt looked worn out, grease and dust decorating.
A long story told within a single look at the miserable pair. A very, very long story indeed. They both looked like they were in agony. Just the impaired one couldn't express it from being brain dead.
A small and faint but airy groan came out of the woman in the wheelchair. The best she could do to let out her pain. The light haired clasped a hand over their mouth in reaction. The pain from another's I suppose. The companion finally spoke:
"Doctor," they said, "please, help me" The light sunny haired sniffled and a pause. "Please, help...her."
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FanfictionA lonely life, Ria Robertsons lives alone in her apartment. Shut-in, and lives to use Meta as an escapism route. There she meets a update on fictional character. With her already watered-down life, she marries a cardboard cut out and chaos ensues. O...
