Ice Water.

Chapter 2; Continued.

There were red flashes and blue smudges, the once sterile-white walls now dripping with colours. I could hear my own breathing and my own voice, but my lips weren't moving. I pulled and pushed at the leather straps on the bed, screaming as much as I could. I was stuck with another needle, and before I could protest, everything was gone again.
Somewhere in the distance between the elevator and the hospital room, I had made myself bleed somehow. All I could remember was blood dripping from mouths and empty black eyes sunken into pale, paper faces. But I also remembered bright, neon swirls and flowers of varying tones. I had lost time between the 'incident', as my doctor called it, and waking up. When I did wake up, I was still restrained. If I moved my head, the whole room seemed to shift with me. My eyes studied the room I was in this time, which was more like a solitary in jail. The walls were a muted blue, the bed and sheets were starched white.
There was an IV post near my bed, but not too close. If I moved my head enough I could stare at the cuts that layered down my arms. The hospital gown was just like the sheets, except there were light blue dots. To make it more presentable and pleasant, I'm guessing. The gown covered down to my shins, and was short-sleeved. My skin almost matched the colour, and the cuts looked like someone had striped me with red marker or pen. A doctor came in, taking note of my state and then leaving without a word. The light burned if I looked up, but there was really nowhere else to look. But maybe if I stared long enough, it would dim down. I eventually dozed off, and woke up somewhere else.