Sanctum

On Cynics and Critics

I coughed as I realized that had slipped from my lips, not contained in my thoughts like I thought it had been.

He looked terrible.

His pale skin had taken on a paper thin, off-color look under the artificial light, and this crappy light seemed to bring out the dark circles under his eyes- or was that from the lack of sleep he had inevitably suffered from?

The straightjacket was a stark white against his dark hair and eyes, contrasting harshly to the black jeans he still had on. He seemed little but a black splotch against the white padding of the room, all long legs and gaunt angles.

He looks a lot smaller without that puffy jacket on, doesn't he? A snide little voice that I recognized as Boldan surfacing for the first time in a while echoed through my head.

Nico did look a lot more fragile with the stiff jacket crossing his arms across his chest, his thin figure crumpled on the floor- charcoal lines chalked over an empty background.

There you go, thinking in art terms again.

"Shut up." I hissed under my breath, meeting Nico's eyes.

"You look better." He offered meekly, sheepish that he was the one having a breakdown now that mine was finally over.

But for how long?

"I said-" I muttered, my lips twitching into a frown as my eyes darted down to my shoes. I tended to look away when I conversed with myself. "Shut it."

"Jordan?" Athena asked, noting my twitchy behavior. "If this is too much, we can go back to the hospital ward and-"

The hospital ward.

"No, no," I huffed, stepping out in front of Athena to fully expose myself to this 'unstable' child.

"I have to know." I whispered. Nico's eyebrows drew together, straining to catch my words.

I took a step forwards and hesitated, my eyes narrowing as I squinted down at him. "Why Spencer?" I asked softly.

The reaction was immediate. His expression went from apologetic to full out rage, dark blue eyes spitting fire and narrowing to burn holes in mine, his lips twisting into a scowl. He completely stiffened, as still as a stone.

"Why not?" He asked, his voice low and dangerous.

"Why Spencer?" I asked again- something inside of me accepting his challenge and taking it with an air of haughty, cocky, arrogance. "Why not Drew? Why not Octavian? The little whiner always got on my nerves anyways." I concluded, shrugging as if the answer was clear when directed somewhere else.

"Why are you so concerned about Spencer?" He asked, seething now. I opened my mouth to reply, but something in my heart lurched, and I stumbled forwards.

I blinked a couple times, staring wide eyed at the floor.

"Hmm." I huffed, confused but not willing to delve further into that occurrence.

"Jordan?" He asked, looking up at me, the recent anger still lingering in his eyes as it gave way to concern. It all came crashing down on me- that I was here to diagnose, not carry on an argument like a petulant child- as I saw his irises tinted black in his anger.

"Athena, can I-" I began, waving a sleeved arm around and beginning to walk towards him.

"Absolutely not!" She screeched, shaking her head. "I will not take an unstable patient out of his straitjacket so you can- can-" she floundered, enraged.