Far Removed. ( OMORI )

One: It Almost Worked

"His condition is stable, and he's been deemed low-risk for now." Said the doctor, reading results off of a clipboard to a woman who stood in front of him, arms crossed, shaking slightly. The woman felt her chest drop, letting a long sigh leave her lungs as she was told of her son's condition. They stood just outside of Sunny's hospital room, going through results before they entered. The doctor found it necessary not to talk about the results of tests and news about his condition in front of the patient. The victim of a failed suicide may be volitile directly afterward, he found.

As they spoke outside, Sunny sat up inside of the stiff hospital bed. He stared at the white wall in front of him, his expression deadpan. He was still here, still dwelling this earth, still feeling anything. He could hardly believe it, or more likely, he didn't want to believe it. He had failed at ending the only thing he really had control over - his life. Did he even have control over it anyhow? For years, he had simply gone where the current took him, making few decisions for himself, and now that he had made the biggest decision in his entire, useless life, it was futile. His actions didn't even matter. He was still here. He thought a lot of things about himself, most, if not all, were negative. And now, on top of it all, he was a failure. He could not even kill himself right. His lips twitched. Eye narrowed as he stared at nothing in particular. He wanted to be angry with himself, to hate himself, but he couldn't muster anything up. He felt weak.

"The wounds in his wrists were very deep. Each wrist needed about 30 stitches. The median nerve in both wrists were injured in the process of the... cutting." The doctor attempted to steer his words, trying to be careful with the mother as her son sat in the hospital room. Ms. Suzuki's arms uncrossed, instead holding each other now, a self-soothing technique, as her head fell, looking down to the ground, tears welling up in her eyes. "Feeling in both of his hands will be dulled, weather slightly or drastically, its hard to tell until we ask. The use of his fingers will also most likely be weakened. He's going to need some physical therapy, but nothing too extensive." The doctor explained to the sad woman in front of him, lowering his clipboard once he had told her everything there was to tell her about Sunny's condition.

"He should be able to leave the hospital fairly soon, though. We were expecting that he'll be able to check out later tonight at the soonest, but most likely tomorrow morning. His bandages will need to be changed regularly once he's out, twice a day, and in a few weeks, he'll be coming back to have to stitches removed." The mother could barely look up from the ground, a wide array of emotions coursing through her, mostly a deep sadness, and a feeling that she had failed as a mother, one that she had felt many times before. She had lost a daughter, and now she felt her only son, slipping from her fingers. "Thank you, doctor." She said meekly, lifting her head to give him a soft smile, which he returned, before she turned her head, looking through the window in the door to Sunny's room, the doctor doing the same.

"Well, it looks like he's awake now. You should go in and speak to him now that he's up, check up on him. I'll leave you and your son for now. It's best if you speak to him alone, especially after..." The doctor's sentance trails off, with Ms. Suzuki nodded in understanding. "The nurses will be on call in case your son needs anything. Just use the call button next to his bed."

With that and a reassuring pat on the mother's arm, the doctor turns, leaving the mother at the door of her son's hospital room as he is swept up with other work. She looks through the window at her son once more, and her hand reaches down, slowly gripping the handle of the sterile hospital door, turning until it slowly creaks open.

"Sunny... You're awake. How are you feeling?" His mother asks, slowly stepping into the room, closing the door behind herself as she does so. Sunny's head slowly turns, his mother coming into view of his left eye as he positions himself to look at her, adjusting the eyepatch that sat over his right eye. "...Fine." Sunny slowly responds to his mother's question, his head turning left to the window as Ms. Suzuki sits in the chair next to the hospital bed, staring at her son with a weak, worried smile. "Your wrists, how do they feel?" She asked. Sunny had barely noticed until it was pointed out, but his wrists burnt, as if settling down from being prodded into with a hot iron. His fingers felt numb, adding on to hostile feeling. He attempted to close his hands but found his fingers incredibly weak, barely functioning as they should, a tinge of pain as his hands slowly closed, weakly. Sunny clenched his teeth, his single eye looking down at his wrists for a moment. The doctors hadn't pumped him full of enough painkillers. His mother watched him as he subtly writhed in pain, her eyes trailing down as he tried to use his hands, her heart shattering as he struggled slightly.