𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 | Inquisitormaster & Zsquad| Danganronpa

☆𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟒☆ || 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐖𝐞'𝐯𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞

SOPHOMORE YEAR

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: **✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *

TW: MENTIONS OF- Sucidice attempt, sc4rs, blood, alc0holism, faint mention of dr*gs (medical)

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: **✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *

~Drake's POV~

NOVEMBER

Hospitals are one of the worst places to be dazed in. Once they finish hooking you up with drugs that make you rigid yet loose, you're left in bed with the distant sounds of agonizing screams, the erratic, irritating beeping of monitors, doctors coming in and whispering either in front of the door or speaking to you like an incomprehensible child. All the lies thrown at you: "Everything's going to be okay" or "Nothing's wrong. You should be out of here soon" or, if you're lucky, "We're going to be lowering the dosage of your medications". They've raised it every time.

Waking up has been the most energy I have exerted on myself. It was a struggle to get out of those weird medicine-induced dreams, but it was worse coming back. My memory is clouded. I do remember the day I woke up a day after that accident.  Zach, Light, Jaxx, and Jade—I think—were in the room. Of course, there are gaps in my hazy memory of the day, though I do feel the reminiscences of giggling that I was doing while Light and Jaxx laughed at my sides, their faces merging with everything around them. Unfortunately, I don't know what called for that.

I could ask them now if I wanted to. They're sleeping though. Jaxx is positioned comfortably in one of the chairs with his head back against the wall, still while Sora's head is balanced on his shoulder. Light's to my left, his head nestled in his arms on the edge of the bed. Compared to earlier, when I was tolerably medicated, he's much calmer. No pacing up and down the foot of the bed, no naming the unimaginable scenarios that could've come from this, and he stopped trying to wipe his eyes quick enough that no one would notice. The tear streaks were still there, I felt bad enough that I couldn't wipe them away.

The injury list isn't long, according to the doctors. It's still bad, though. My wrist fractured during the fall when I tried to catch myself. I have a horrible concussion also. Doctors put stitches over the huge spot broken on my scalp. Bits of my hair were cut off to get to it, but not enough to be noticeable. Actually, when I had asked if anyone could see it—I don't remember who— they didn't know what I was talking about. So, I guess that's good.

Flexing my fingers hurt to burning, more pronounced on my right hand. Everything hurts. I was fueled by adrenaline when it all happened because nothing then compared to how inflammatory everything is now. Turning my head hurt enough, even trying to curl in my pinkie hurt like hell. I've been stuck here trying to survive the horrors of needles and whatever the hell is in that plastic baggie thing on the metal stick. I watch it slide into the tube, and listen as it falls into the bag, the drip seeming to echo in this hushed room. Everything blares, pressing against my eardrums. But nothing is moving. Nothing messes with the silence except the beeping and panic fading away down the hall.

Looking down at my braced left hand does nothing. I hate this. I feel stuck and trapped. The stiff mattress was glued to me, or I was glued to it. I try to flex my fingers again, but it sends lightning spidering to my elbow before it exploded in the space my arm has to offer. I tried again, hoping to have adjusted to the pain, but it didn't work. The beeping in the background quickens. This place is so damn irritating. For however long my mind zones out to another world, I try to move anything without a stitch of pain. My muscles burn and twitch, and I can't move them without sucking in a sharp breath or groaning from how harrowing it is. Then, I give up and listen to the resounding noise in the background that was directly in my mind at this point. The movement had taken the wind out of me, it's almost impossible to breathe. I couldn't do it, even my chest hurt too much for the effort. I close my eyes, hoping to succumb to it all.