The Fall of the Aftons

174: Michael Afton

Michael slowly awoke from the anesthesia, his eyes fluttering open as tears started to form in them. Apparently, he ripped either a tendon or a ligament when he was thrashing—he couldn't remember which—and needed an emergency surgery to repair it.

"Hey," Mister Wright's familiar voice greeted quietly. He stood up from a chair that had been dragged next to Michael's hospital bed, resting his hand on Michael's shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

Michael squirmed under Mister Wright's touch, trying to get away. But it hurt so much to move, even just the tiniest bit. Everything was unbearably excruciating. Tears burned his eyes, threatening to spill over any second. It was too much to handle, and the physical contact wasn't helping, either.

Mister Wright took his hand off Michael's shoulder. "Is something wrong?"

He couldn't respond, the pain too much for him to think straight. Everything hurt, especially his wrist and his broken leg. The tears finally started to fall, streaming down his cheeks at a steady pace, soaking his face and making his vision blurry.

"Michael?" Mister Wright asked worriedly, waving his hand in front of his face. "Come on, talk to me, kid. What's wrong?"

He didn't give a response.

"I'm going to get Doctor Ingissroy, okay? I'll be right back," Mister Wright promised.

He watched as Mister Wright quickly walked out of the room, asking one of the nurses near the door if they knew where Doctor Tania Ingissroy was. A few minutes later, Mister Wright returned with Doctor Ingissroy right behind him.

"Oh, gosh," she said worriedly when she saw Michael sobbing silently in his hospital bed. "Nurse Martinez didn't give you your painkillers, did she? I'm so sorry, she's only been here for two weeks and just got moved to the ICU a few days ago." She rushed to his side and took a syringe off the tray next to his bed, starting to fill the syringe with pain medications. "You poor thing, I can't imagine how much pain you're in." She walked over to the other side of the bed and gave him the painkillers. "How's that? Any better?"

Most of the pain started to fade, but his leg still hurt like crap. He didn't care, so he simply nodded his head. But she clearly did, somehow noticing that he was still hurting.

"Why are you still shaking? Are you still in pain?" she asked, frowning.

He looked away, not wanting to answer.

"Michael?" Mister Wright asked quietly, stepping forward. "Are you okay?"

"He's fine. He does this all of the time," she assured him. She turned to Michael again. "What hurts, Michael? Your wrist?"

He continued to look away, refusing to look at her.

"Your arm?" she asked.

He remained silent, still looking away.

"Your head?"

He continued to look away.

"Your amputated leg?"

He still continued to look away.

"Your broken leg?"

Finally, he slowly turned to look at her, not quite making eye contact.

"Your broken leg still hurts, doesn't it?" she clarified, frowning.

He slowly nodded his head, looking at his hands, which were still restrained to the bed.

Her frown dug deeper into her cheeks and she sighed, dragging a hand down her face. "You're already on the highest dose of painkillers you can safely be on. Do you want us to do some imaging to see why your leg suddenly hurts?"

He shook his head.

"Are you sure?"

He slowly shook his head again, glancing away.

She chuckled softly, shaking her head in amusement. "I'll schedule you for x-rays and an MRI as soon as possible, okay?"

He nodded.

She gave him a small smile, then turned to Mister Wright. "If he needs something again, come find me. I'll see you two later." And she walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

"Michael," Mister Wright said. "Could I talk to you for a bit?"

Michael hesitantly nodded his head, not quite making eye contact with him.

"How have you really been?" he asked nervously. "You've been getting out of bed when you're not supposed to and you've been refusing to tell people when you're in pain so your painkillers can be replenished. And now you tore one of your tendons trying to keep yourself from being restrained. Most people don't do things like that. So... how are you doing?"

Michael looked away, tears burning his eyes.

"You blame yourself for Noah's death. Don't you?"

A single tear slipped down his cheek as he reluctantly nodded his head.

"That's why you've been hurting yourself. Isn't it?"

Michael didn't respond, stunned. He'd never thought about it like that. But it made sense. When he did something wrong, he typically had some kind of self-destructive behavior, whether that be starvation, overworking, sleep deprivation, or not treating wounds from work. He wasn't doing it on purpose or anything—he didn't realize that he was doing them until it was too late. It was how he subconsciously coped with his issues.

Even if it was subconscious, it didn't excuse him from his behaviors. He should've been taking care of himself, no matter what was wrong.

"I'm sorry."

His voice was weak and shaky. Crackly and quiet. Strained and barely audible. But it was his.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he exclaimed softly, his voice distorted by a sob. Tears started to stream down his face and sobs forced themselves out of him. "I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry!"

"Woah, woah, woah, hey! Hey, hey, hey!" Mister Wright exclaimed worriedly when Michael started writhing as he sobbed. "It's okay, Michael. It's okay. You've had a lot of struggles recently. I'm not faulting you, nor am I angry or upset with you." He chuckled softly and rested his hand on Michael's shoulder, gently rubbing it with his thumb. "How about, once you're out of here, we find you a therapist? They could help you cope with all of the terrible shit that you've gone through. Would you like to do that?"

"When I get o-out, I'm m-moving back to m-my house," he mumbled. "I don't... I-I don't want to be a burden on you guys."

Mister Wright gave him a sad smile. "You'll never be a burden to us, Michael. And I don't think that you'll be able to go home when you leave, anyway. You'll have to go home with your legal guardian, which is technically me right now."

"B-But—"

"No, no buts. You'll never be a burden to us, ya hear? We love you, you're like family to us. Do you know how many times—especially Drai, Sunni, and the twins—have complained that same-sex marriage isn't legal here yet? They were desperately hoping that you two would get married in the future, should it become legal, even though you two were only in high school at the time."

Michael blushed as tears burned his eyes. "I... I would've loved to marry him if same-sex marriage was legal here. But I doubt that we would've lasted very long. I'm a lot to handle."

"You can be, yeah. But he never seemed to mind. It seemed he knew exactly what to do whenever something happened, too."

"Yeah... Don't know how, but he did..." He chuckled, then sighed as a few tears slipped from his eyes. "I miss him. I miss him so much."

"I know," Mister Wright said sadly. "You were his favorite person, and I'm certain that he was yours, too."

"He still is," he hesitantly admitted. "Is that weird? A dead person being my favorite person?"

"I don't think so. It was obvious how much you loved him, and it's obvious how much you still love him."

"I always will."