Sympathy For the Devil

11

Fuck me.

My back feels like I slept on a park bench. I sat up in bed until my head smacked a metal surface that echoed and reverberated.

"Ow." I grunted annoyingly. My head hurt from the pressure of smacking it on the hard surface.

The clang resonated in the air until the sound began to slowly dissipate into the air. Where my head had smacked itself, there was a small indent scarring the surface of the chamber. The resolving silence did nothing to dissolve my relentless nerves, though.

Something felt wrong deep in my aching bones.

I had no idea where I was or why I was no longer in the comforts of my bed with Failinis. I should be at home. My dad will be worried sick if I snuck out the night after my hospital stint. I didn't want to be the reason he worried every day. He already has enough on his plate without my mental instabilities. I will turn over a new leaf and be better. I had to do that for them. For all of them. I was a sorry excuse for a daughter or a sister right now, but I didn't want to be. I didn't want to have the image of slut mar my reputation any longer. Ellie 2.0 fucking sucks. I would do anything to get back into my normal ways. I miss photography and musicals and all of my quirks. I miss my old self and the way things used to be.

I had to get out of here one way or another. This chamber was too frigid and small. It was void of all warmth.

I clung onto the sides of the suffocatingly small metallic chamber. Everything felt cool to the touch. My body was covered in a thin sheet of white. Oh God, am I fucking naked under here? I felt beneath the sheet to confirm my suspicions. I was in fact naked. I felt completely violated and exposed.

Where the fuck am I?

My claustrophobia was flaring up as I moved my hands to try and punch the surface that contained me until my knuckles split open from the force. Droplets of a dark blood cascaded down my arm until my arm stitched the wound back up again until the blood dribbled off and revealed a clean hand underneath the bloodshed.

Dots of the blood freckled my face as I shut my eyes so the blood wouldn't seep into my eye sockets.

What in the actual hell?

I've clearly lost all of my marbles.  None of this made any sense. Wounds don't heal in seconds flat. A wound like that should have taken at least a week to heal completely. But it hadn't, it had healed instantly.

"I should've warned you about where you'd end up. It isn't what I would define as pleasant. It's too closed in and cramped for my liking. Lay back down, trust me." Killian's voice wandered through the metal chamber as I laid back down like he asked. His voice was light and calm. It was reassuring enough to have me listen to him even though I had no fucking clue as to where I was or why my body feels like it's been hit by a semi. Everything hurt all over. The pain was indescribable.

The chamber slid with a fast paced whoosh sound as the mouth of the chamber opened and the tray was slid out in a swift movement. I clung on tighter to the too thin sheet as harsh lights met my gaze. The type of lights that flicker ominously and make your skin look an unflattering tinted shade of green.

"Here, you'll want to stay hydrated. You haven't eaten or drank anything in a day. You're bound to feel on the weaker side." Killian held out a bottle of water towards me, but I didn't make an effort to grab it.

"Slow your roll, Killian, where am I?" I stood up too fast as the sheet teased a little too much of my exposed skin. I grabbed at the sheet as my cheeks tinted red.

Killian stared briefly before recollecting himself as I pulled the sheet taut over my exposed flesh. "The city morgue." He shrugged lazily as if being in the morgue wouldn't faze me. It clearly didn't faze him. "There are worse places to end up." His black snarky t-shirt of the day said 'Sarcasm: Just one of the many free services I offer' in white block lettering. I wish I could smack those letters off of his chest right about now.