Wristbands - M.C.

Six

-Michaels POV-

It was Saturday morning. I sat in an uncomfortable, plastic chair for nearly an hour now waiting for this Elizabeth girl to be prepped for our first meeting.

My leg bounced up and down, restless and impatient. My eyes flickered from one poster to another, reading anything to be read, hoping the time would pass more quickly. I ran my fingers over the printed wristband, sighing deeply.

How the fuck did I get myself into this?

Finally, I heard the clicking of a now unlocked doorknob and I watched as the tiny nurse tiptoed from the other side. "Michael Clifford?" I nodded, standing up. "She's ready."

-Elizabeth's POV-

The nurses still didn't trust me to bathe by myself. I suppose they knew Tyler was smart enough to figure out a way to kill us both or to kill Jillian and Sara, the two nurses that have spent the most time now with me.

Tyler's only come out once since I got here. Apparently, he flipped her shit and put a syringe into a nurse's arm with a sedative. They now have to strap my arms and legs down when giving me medications. They've had to inject them because they know I'd try to save them.

After bathing me, they gave me a fresh set of clothes that my parents must have brought me. No drawstrings, no zippers, no "harmful graphics". I was given two pairs of pants: dark grey leggings and black spandex-ish shorts. Along with three tops: a maroon pullover hoodie with my father's Uni on it, a lightweight black longsleeve with a graphic from The Little Mermaid, and a baggy white tank top with a cute whale on the front.

I threw on the hoodie and the shorts. We weren't allowed shoes with laces, so most people wore slippers. But I just walked around the place in my fuzzy socks, so I pulled on a pair of ones that looked like foxes.

I breathed in deeply. I mentally prepared myself for the person that was planning on using me for a community service project.

"You're gonna hate him. He's only here because he has to be. Nobody wants to be here. You're gonna make this awful for him." I repeated to myself, hyping myself up like a sports player before a big game.

My wristbands dangled around on my wrist. I heard the door begin to creak open. My whole body halted, my eyes grew wide with anticipation.

Ana, a nurse who held herself by sticks of legs, tucked her head around the door frame. "Um Miss Parker?" she started, clearing her voice. "Your visitor is here. His name is Michael Clifford." She opened the door a little to show his face. Pale flesh, emerald eyes, pink hair.