Wilted

Seedling

     The silence was deafening.

     A stark, blinding white that went on for miles, coating everything in its path in a thick layer of fog. If there was a hell, or anything like it, it was a Hospital, reeking of sterility and unintelligible whispers.
That's where she sat, covered in blood. Fat, hot tears running down her pallid face. Jørn had gone back to admit Pelle, he was the only one who could speak to the doctors coherently.
There was no guarantee he would live, obviously, slit wrists were one thing, but a gaping throat wound was a bit harder to patch up.
     Jørn busted through the doors, falling haphazardly into the chair next to Orchid. It was clear he'd been crying, angrily at that.
"Doctor's are doin what they can." He muttered, looking over at her, "You look like hell, kid."
Orchid, a shivering mess of nerves, lifted her bloodied face, "I-Is he gonna live, Jørn? Pl-Please, I need to know…" the cold, knotted coil of anxiety curled in her gut, all emotions hitting her at once like a cold ocean wave.
Jørn screwed his eyes shut, running a hand through his hair. "I think so, but…ugh." He called his hands into fists, trying to bite the tears away. He swept the smaller girl into a tight hug, "Why didn't I see it? How could I be so fucking stupid, Orc?"
Orchid couldn't handle it anymore, wailing into his shoulder. Her whole world was crumbling around her, with only the smell of copper and worn denim as comfort. "How could WE be so stupid?!" She asked through gritted teeth, "I've known him since we were young, I was fucking blind…"

     Orchid fell back in her hard waiting room chair, they sat in silence for what felt like years, even when the doctor told them he was going to stay the night. She fell into Jørn's car without a word, curling into the seat.
Jørn clicked the radio on, a Fleetwood Mac song permeated the uncomfortable silence. It was a song she knew well, but it was hard to find any joy in it.
"I loved him, Jørn." She said lazily, all the fear in her voice was replaced with hopelessness.
"Aye, don't say that. He's not dead yet."
Orchid straightened out her knees with a sickening joint crack, her body was so tense it hurt to even move. "How do you even patch up a slit throat?"
"I don't care how they do it. He's our friend, you should at least have a little hope here." He scolded her, adding a few more knots to her stomach. She whimpered in pain and his face softened, "Ugh, Sorry, I'm a bit tense."
"He didn't kiss you."
"He kissed you? Huh, explains the…blood." He pointed at her face.
Orchid ran her arm over her face, staining her jacket. "I guess he would do that. Always had a flair for the dramatic."
"He did, didn't he? Did I tell you about the time he buried his concert clothes in the front yard? Smelled like he'd been wading in a marsh for weeks." Jørn hid a small smile as he recalled the memory.
"Hm, When we were young, he used to cut the wings off of dead birds and chuck them at my window." Orchid stared blankly out the window.

     The ride to the college was solemn, the stories of their friend softening the blow ever so slightly. Orchid thanked him as she left, but couldn't find the spoons to say much else to anyone. Even if they were there, it was shockingly quiet on her floor today, everyone must have been in class or finding lunch, not that she cared much at the moment.
    
     The sound of running water was comforting as he poured over her head, her beloved flower petals, both fresh and dried, were scrubbed from her scalp, leaving her hair unusually clean.
Orchid sniffled as she watched them swirl down the drain, mixed with blood and soap.
     'Magic…what a joke.'
She gritted her teeth as she emerged, throwing on some of her comfiest clothes and making her way back to the dorm.
     'Maybe I was the joke.'

     Usually when she felt sad, or alone, the safety of Loki's blessing brought her comfort. She felt magic from the land, from the forest, it masked every bad thing that happened in her life, she was able to find magic in small things.
Pelle was a blessing in her eyes, from Loki himself, sent from him to help her through a life that most wouldn't have survived. Without him, the world felt…

Dead.

    Hot, Angry tears rolled down her face as she slammed her bag against the wall, a cacophony of shattering glass and cracking bleached bones rang in her ears. No more bullshit, No more fake magic bedtime stories she refused to grow out of, it was all gone in an instant, with every slam against the wall.
     She shouted in frustration as she chucked the bag into the trash, rubbing her face raw as she looked in the mirror. Her eyes were puffy and dark, and her hair falling limply at the sides of her face. It was almost weird seeing it clean, out of her braid, and…normal.

As Normal as any of this could possibly be.

-

(Good God. Almost 1000 reads, I gotta admit, I didn't think I'd get this far. If you made it and are still reading, thank you from the bottom of my little black heart. Y'all the real MVPs for dealing with my bullshit. Hope you enjoy it, for real.)