Monochromatic

Chapter 17

Azoria

I awoke to lie around broken glass and needles. Pills were scattered around the couch and on the floor, and the small bottles that weren't shattered sat on their sides further decorating the room. My eyes widen as I realize that the picture I saw was my reality. I remembered nothing, but something told me that I did something wrong. I overdid it. I felt nauseous, and despite my effort, I had no choice but to rush to the restroom. Out of habit, I tried to move my hair out the way. I couldn't feel the usual long locks glide between my fingers, and at last I realized how little of my hair I felt.

"Oh, yeah...I cut my hair."

What was left in length was tied out the way in two messy pigtails, allowing me to freely puke for a few minutes.

I got off my knees, the toilet now too full to leave alone. I had no choice, I had to flush the toilet earlier than usual, again. The horrific odor lasted long after the toilet was flushed, but by now, I had gotten used to it. Now the smell consumed the house, and before I could try and do anything I had to take the tape from a nearby broken window and air out the place. Then, I slowly made my way into the kitchen. There was a cup of water seemingly waiting for me to grab, a cup Freedom must have prepared ahead of time. I couldn't help but smile.

'Oh Freedom, my dearest younger brother, what did I do to deserve you?'

Carefully, I drank the water, my hands trembling.

'This needs to stop...there has to be a better way'

'You know...you could always go back for proper treatment.'

'We've discussed this.'

'Oh yes, tell us again how postponing your return home and risking the safety of your beloved brother is a 'better option''

I didn't answer, I didn't have an answer, not then at least. Still, I believed I could find a way, any way, to avoid going back to that place for my medicine. But first, there was a mess in the living room waiting for me to clean it up. After finishing I decided to check on my little brother presumably sleeping in his room as usual. I was right, he hung somewhat upside down from his bed. I was careful not to wake him, lifting him up and adjusting him into the middle of the bed. Once he was covered I took another second to smile and observe, kissing him on the head and leaving.

It was almost time for me to leave for work. No, it was past time for me to leave for work! I rushed to get my uniform, leaving out the door without preparing a lunch for Freedom

"He can do that himself...he's a responsible boy," I said, attempting to justify my actions, but it still left a pain in my chest

20 minutes was all I had to reach so far across town, but I made it. The people I passed around me stared in confusion as I swept by, but I didn't care. If they knew how much trouble I'd be in for being late, they'd probably cheer me on. Luckily that day, I didn't have to be disciplined. I came through the door of an average looking office building with nontransparent black glass. A woman stood at the door, and I showed her my ID. I'm in, and everything still appeared as normal. Nothing changed, I still had the same reaction as when I first started this job. Strangely though, I don't remember much about that day.

The hours were long and laborious. So many, too many people, screaming and crying all around me. I hated it, it was too much like....no, I couldn't think like that. I needed that job, I needed the money. I just had to endure it, and wear earplugs. It wasn't too bad, I was never lonesome. The terrorized and traumatized people I saw every day...You'd think it was an asylum, but it was worse. I was told from day one that that was the place where dreams came to die for those unfortunate to get on the company's bad side. However, there were good people in that building. They were so kind and understanding, at least, most of them. Some were too busy yelling at me and begging with tears in their eyes for me to save them to understand; there was no way out. Depending on why the patient was brought in and their tolerance to the pain they'd endure, they'd either die a quick and painful death, or a slow and traumatic one. When and if they died, they'd be thrown in the truck to be disposed of. Not all of the employees there enjoyed it though. Most of us still had a heart, they just beated slower.