Warm Bodies (Herobrine X Entity303)

chapter 9

Only a week had passed, but it felt like years. It was like back in that hospital room all over again, the days bleeding together, the colour drained from my surroundings, everything aching and painful. The silence was deafening. I hadn't slept correctly in what felt like an eternity. Whenever I'd pass out, I'd be awoken by nurses and their bright flashlights, checking my pulse and blinding me to check I'm still alive. My head hurt, my chest hurt, my muscles cramped endlessly. My stomach was in a constant cycle of hungered pain, poor quality food, nausea, indigestion, then back around. Everything had a secret meaning, an encoded message, a pattern, and yet nothing meant anything, and nothing was actually real, just a simulation. Every day for the first week I had spoken with a psychiatrist, who evaluated my symptoms and who gave me coping mechanisms whilst also trying to diagnose me. He hadn't managed to diagnose anything besides the ones I was already diagnosed with, too early to figure anything else out. Diagnosing patients gets difficult when they average ten words a day, four of those being responses to hallucinations.

There was nothing here for me. The other patients were happy, bonding with each other, and comfortable. They were truly thriving, all of them benefiting from the treatments they were receiving, social and medical. I envied all of them. I wanted so badly to know why I couldn't find anything worthwhile in my stay here, and why nothing here was working. I had tried everything the staff suggested to feel less miserable, to feel happy, to feel alive, to find something to look forward to. I found myself unable to even look forward to Herobrine's upcoming visit in a few hours, because all I could think about was his insistence that this would all be over before I knew it, and that if I'm not feeling better it's because I'm too cynical and need to try harder, and the worst one of all: that he was right there if I needed him.

Well, he wasn't. I needed him. I needed him there with me, every minute of every day. I wanted to see him, I wanted to grip onto him tight enough to leave nail marks, I wanted to be so close to him that I could smell his blood, I wanted to see his shirt ripped by my hands, his hair matted and red with his own blood, bruises on his knuckles, I wanted him to look at me with glowing white eyes in satisfaction that he'd sufficiently beaten me. But he wasn't there. He wasn't allowed to be, psych ward rules, and I knew he wouldn't physically be there with me all day every day, I understood he meant metaphorically, supporting me and hyping me up remotely. But it didn't change the fact that I needed him desperately. And with such a desperate craving for his presence, I also understood that all I'd be able to think about was that a single hour of talking to him wouldn't be enough, and he'd be gone again before I knew it, and I'd have to do the whole thing over again waiting for next week's visit.

The silent clock on the wall read 12:58pm, and a nurse poked his head around the door to inform me it was visiting time, which I knew to be held in the common room where everyone usually spent most of the day chatting with others and performing tasks. I knew it'd be a waste of my limited energy to neaten up, and I knew looking mentally stable would defeat the point of being in a mental hospital, so I left my room as I was, and as I had been since I arrived a week ago.

I followed the nurse down the winding corridors to the common room, where the tables had been temporarily reorganised to allow for two people - a patient and their visitor - to have a table each. On a table to the side of the room was lukewarm filter coffee, a plate of bland looking cookies, and plastic cups, reminiscent of an AA meeting. Walking through the doorway, I spotted him at a table at the very back of the room. His hair was slicked back and combed, slightly wet from a recent shower, and he wore a pristine black turtleneck sweater, freshly ironed. I, on the other hand, wore the same baggy sweatpants and long sleeved band tee I had been wearing for a week straight since I arrived. I hadn't showered, my clothes were unwashed, my hair was tangled and greasy, and my eyes were hollow and puffy, set within dark circles from the lack of sleep. He beamed like the sun when he saw me, and I tried my best to smile, but even after being in here for only a week I felt myself forgetting how to smile. Might as well make the most of this brief meeting, I really had been dying to see him. I silently took a seat with him.

"Hey, you. How have you been?"

"Ask me that again, and this time look directly into my eyes."

"I'm going to be truthful, you look sick."

"That's why I'm here."

"Have you been sleeping ok?"

"No."

"Have you been eating ok?"

"No."

"Have you been... I don't know, keeping yourself occupied? Keeping your mind busy?"

"What do you think?"

"Ok, this will be a lot easier for both of us if you stop being such a dick."

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry. I've missed you."

"Oh, you have, have you?"

"There's nothing to do here. The food's awful, the nurses are strictly opposed to letting me sleep peacefully without startling me awake, the bedding is itchy, I hate drawing with charcoal, and the psychiatrist has nothing to say to me except shit I already know. I'm trying to find something to get me through this, I really am trying. But to tell me that there's anything positive this place can offer me is to lie to my face. They really thought it'd be a good idea to put a person with ADHD in a white box with no stimulation and thought I'd be ok, and that I wouldn't slowly go insane. Even the boredom is physically painful. I think I'd prefer a padded cell and a straitjacket, at least then the floor would be comfortable enough to sleep on."

"I'm sorry, Entity. I'm sorry you're struggling. I can ask them to put you on Adderall, I can ask them to give you pencils, or pens, I can ask them to get better sheets..."

"Prison cell, Herobrine. A few superficial tweaks won't change the fact I'm in a prison cell that thinks it's anything other than a prison cell. I want out. I'm not going to get better here if I'm rapidly getting worse by being here."

"Sorry, Ent, but they can't let you out yet. It's only been a week. For all we know, a few more sessions with the psychiatrist and they'll find a medication that works, maybe you'll get a roommate and get along well, maybe they'll employ a new cook-"

"I'm gonna die in here."

"Good luck with that, because you'll have a hard time doing anything when I tell the nurses to start accompanying you 24/7 again. I am not going to lose you again."

"Can you get me weed?"

"Absolutely not."

We talked about everything and nothing until our time was up, and before I knew it, he had left me again. There were so many things I wanted to say to him, so much I wanted him to know, but I didn't think to share any of it until he had already gone. My one visit for a whole week, wasted. I was going to die if I stayed here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I ran. I didn't look back, I just ran. My bare feet were cold from the dew-soaked grass, cut and bleeding from twigs, stones, forest debris. My whole body was cold. I don't remember how I got out. My brain had decayed so much I wasn't retaining any new memories at all, I was purely relying on drive, and instinct. I saw an opportunity, and I took it, and I ran.

I was sure I was safe from them. This deep in the forest I knew they wouldn't be able to find me, and no vehicles were able to follow me. I had gotten out. I had survived, but I had to cheat to do it. Herobrine never said I couldn't cheat, he just said I needed to survive, that he couldn't lose me, and as he wanted I had survived and I was running to him.

I had been through this area countless times. This was the forest that separated my house from his, and I had gone on midnight strolls through here a hundred times over. I knew where I was, but I wasn't sure if I'd make it there. Cuts and scrapes had ripped my clothes, opening my flesh and leaving a trail of blood in the wet grass, and I was cold. I hadn't slept for three consecutive days, and sleeping wasn't exactly plentiful for a solid week before then. I hadn't eaten in five days. I was dizzy, and I knew I would faint soon, I just needed to make sure I made it to his house before I collapsed in the forest and froze to death in the autumn chill. My run had slowed to limping, and finally I saw the imposing shadowy form of his mansion, in the heart of the forest. The moon lit my path ahead of me, and I made my way to his front door, my vision starting to falter.

I knocked. I heard his footsteps. The front door opened.

"Wha-! En- Entity!? What are you-!?"

"Didn't know where else to go." Finally, I was safe. I passed out into his arms.