Eyed Well

2: sick of truth

*Author's note*
Trigger warnings: abuse, trauma, running away, adult langue.

Mark has been sick now for around 3 days, since the day of the sprinklers.

I wanted to ask him about what he meant that they were all about him but I felt that it wasn't the right time.

I hear him whine and hide himself under the blanket. "Get out of there before I tear it off of you!" I yell placing the medicine to the side.

I jump onto the bed and remove the blanket off of him, he shakes a little due to the cold air the AC gives.

I leave the bed and turn off the AC.
The second I take my feet off the bed and place it on the floor, the floor feels cold and her voice laches right onto the back of my brain.

"You will play my games because you have no choice but to collapse at the hands of others, that's what happened to me, it's what will happen to you." My blood regains back to where it was and the floor turns back to it's normal temperature.

But my heart pumps a thousand times in a second and my breathing escalates as far as possible. "Arlyss?" I blink and turn my head to him seeing his face filled with concern. "Yeah?" I say as I go and turn off the AC.

"Better now?!" I roll my eyes and sigh, when I turn around and see the blanket on top of him again.

"Just sit up straight." I say tired.
Like damn I have been taking care of this bitch for 3 days straight and he is so ungrateful.

He lets out an annoyed sound and sits up straight covering himself still with the blanket, he takes the pill on the side of the bed that lays on the counter.

I give him the water after he places the pill in his mouth, he grabs it from my hands and swallows it fast.

He lets his tongue flow out of his mouth, letting go of a disgusted face. "This pill tastes like shit." He places the glass on the table.

I stare blankley at him. "I seriously don't care." He flips me off but shoves his finger immediately back in from the cold.

He lies his body down and i stare at the wall for a bit. It's better if I ask him now.

"Mark." I say softly, he stays still and just mumbles 'what?'

"What did you mean by when your tattoos are all about you?" He stays silent for a little and turns around but ends up falling over the bed.

"Actually." I say. He moves like a worm and just ends up staying on the ground. "I was a little high so I was probably saying anything." I smack my lips. "I know you're lying."

He stays silent for a while. "It's complicated." He says softly, his eyes a look of tired. "I'll understand." I turn my chair to the other side where he lays on the ground.

He turns his head to the side, giving me a view of his profile, a jawline sharp, yet still can lean into a little bit of soft.

"I just like writing poems, sometimes I want the people I love to read them forever." I smile then giggle a little shaking my head. "What?" He asks.

"Nothing it's just you practically just said a small poem right now." I push the chair away and head over to his side laying my body beside, I put my arm over his shoulder and pull him in a little, making him rest his head in my shoulder as I rest my head on his.

"I want to let go of this on and off depression thing." He says triggered, his eyes staring into the wall with anger as he zones out.

"Have you ever tried going to a doctor about these things." I ask him, my voice a quiet of tone.