"Good morning, little hero."
His voice grated on my nerves. I knew it wasn't really him, anyway. He was somewhere else, being treated for the injuries I gave him. It didn't mean I couldn't feel his hands running down my back, my face, my arms, my neck. I tried to slap him away but the restraints on the bed kept me still. I couldn't even turn my head.
"Angel."
That voice was different. It felt familiar, feminine, but I couldn't place it. It wasn't Julie or Lyla.
"Angel," it said again, "It's me, Avery."
Avery. I knew an Avery.
No. She couldn't be here. I didn't want her to be here. I snap back to reality in an instant.
"I'm here to help you," she insists.
I try to turn my head to see her, but the restraints are still there. I wasn't dreaming those up. "Youuu don't help peopleee," I groan, my voice slurred and hoarse.
She ignores my comment and refers to my thoughts about the restraints, "You were trying to hurt yourself, and others. The doctors restrained you to keep everyone safe. I'm here to do a mental evaluation. If you pass then we'll start weaning you off the sedatives. If not, you'll be kept under for most of the day still."
I try to relax. I'm going to have to get comfortable here, after all. You can't put someone in their own personal hell and expect them to get better. I hear a rustling of fabric and steps towards the door. Someone grabs my wrist and turns a dial on one of the machines- I hear it click. I knew it. It took less than thirty seconds for her to decide that she wasn't going to let me go.
"I'm sorry. We'll try again tomorrow, yes?"
"I hate your guts," I attempt to say. I don't know how much she can understand with the sedatives kicking back in.
"Hmmm. It really is sad to see how far our mighty heroes can fall."
I hate her for the taunting in her voice. That's what she's doing; taunting me. I tense as the sedatives kick back in and my eyelids force their way closed.
"Welcome back, little hero," he cackles before bending over me and forces an eyelid open, "What? Can't stand to see what you've done to me?"
I can't. His face- the face I mutilated- is looking down on me. I just want it to stop.
YOU ARE READING
Untitled Story of Healing
Fantasy"Do you think we can get over this?" "I think we have to. There are people depending on us." "Yeah. But does that mean we're really over it? Or are we just going to be acting for the rest of our lives?" She laughed, a harsh sound in the center of a...
