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Nicholas, with his caffeine fix, eager to conquer the day, walked through the town's bustling streets towards his workplace.
He always hated Mondays, not because of a cliché excuse. But because of what his job required. He had to dress up as a cartoon character, get to the hospital, and play guitar for children. But he did not hate that—by any means.
He loathed witnessing pain. He loathed not seeing the kids he saw last time, but not because they were discharged. He hated cries, the lack of hope. He couldn't even stand the noise of the machines that kept alive many.
He wanted to forget that once he was the one laying on a cold, white bed. He was the one feeling the pain and witnessing it spread to his loved ones. This is the only reason Nicholas hate was not directed towards a person or a thing. Instead, it was rooted in his aversion towards pain.
In his quest to eradicate pain from his life, he barricaded himself within the confines of his job, but that was what was exposing him most.
He was lying to himself. He did not hate any of that. Maybe pain—yes, he did. But all the other things—he just saw himself in everyone a little bit. A part of himself he wanted to forget.
When he was witnessing pain, he was reminded of the pain he felt when he injected his veins with a so-called poison through a needle, not even two years ago. When he saw the pain in his mother's eyes when she found him almost passed out on the cold, hard bathroom floor inside his childhood home.
When in the hospital, he saw people die, eaten by their sickness. He had gotten used to this wicked thing, but that never stopped the urge to throw up at the thought of it. The machines, oh the sound of the machines. It was like a clock counting the seconds left to live.
He wanted to forget everything. But maybe that was his punishment—living every second of it, every Monday. Because he got to live and prayed to never go back. He was now clean. But mentally scarred. Now able to play his old, crusty acoustic guitar to soften the misfortune of others.
When they entered room A256, his eyes traveled to a little girl so pale that made his heart drop to his stomach. One older woman, deep in thought, stared out of the window, as if she could no longer stand what was happening in that cold hospital room.
But what captured his attention most was a pair of chocolate-brown eyes on the edge of tears. They held sadness, they had lost their spark. The seemed...lifeless.
Soft music filled the room, the little girl's posture relaxed as she got comfortable on the pillows behind her back.
Two weak girls stood before Nicholas, holding hands as if one could pull the other to the other side. To the better side.
Nicholas and his team left the room, but his heart was longing for the brunette beauty and the desire to console her pain.
Because even if he got to live and stay away from distress, he would drown himself again, just to bring others with him to the other side.
To the good side. Where they can keep on living.
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It has gotten sad, I know.
But that's life.
Hope you're doing amazing, though!
Don't forget to vote!!
🤍
-Desp.
YOU ARE READING
When They Met
Romance[A VERY SHORT STORY] In which their lives are more intertwined than they thought. They just have not met. Yet.
