Sick (Peterick AU)

I'll Never Turn Back Time

Sometimes people can be so stupid. This is exactly why I don't talk with the other patients.

Pete had to go to radiology for his weekly blood test. I've been wanting to get my times switched so that we could go together, and I wouldn't really have to deal with anyone else.

However, some things just don't work out. My tests are tomorrow at three. It's great, because now I have an hour to myself and the idiots around me.

Pete and Ryan are my only escapes from these people, but with Ryan off with his other patient-Joe, I think his name was- and Pete gone, I have no one to distract me from this mess.

I'm doing quite a terrible job explaining what's happening; this is why you shouldn't get caught up wallowing in your own bitterness.

My day started off fairly well, but it's only 12:23, and Pete had left about twenty-seven minutes ago. After departing from Pete, I made my way to the cafeteria and began to make a plate.

Eggs, a pancake, and a small blueberry muffin. I began towards my table, just in time to see a blonde boy named Damien slam his plate right on the tabletop. He did this as if he were extremely irritated. The act of sitting at my table alone had agitated me, however what he'd said after angered me even further.

"Shit," he mumbled. "How the hell did that happen?" He said this while staring at his hash browns, which were now scattered around the table. I creased my brow in frustration.

"I wonder," I mumbled as I made my way past him. The sarcasm was clear in my voice, but he didn't hear me. Thank god he didn't; he probably would've tried to fight me, and my fighting skills are equal to that of a two year old.

I began my way toward the corner table that Ryan and I sat in yesterday, but before I could make it, someone ran into me from the side, completely knocking me over. My plate could've shattered, if it wasn't for my hand under it. I'm glad I didn't have anything too terribly messy, that would've sucked.

My right elbow hit the marble floor hard, and I just barely saved my head from doing the same. However, I couldn't save my back from its fate.

"Shit," I hear, they sound angry. "Watch where you're going, punk!" Whoever it was yelled this at me as they ran in the direction they were headed before.

I groaned lightly. My tailbone freaking hurt, and my lungs began to flare a bit, along with my throat. Eggs were on my glasses, in my hair, and I think the pancake landed on my chest. I take three deep breaths before I sit up on my knees, and begin ridding my hair of my breakfast. This is exactly how I wanted to spend my day! And it only got better!

Someone freaking stepped in my plate. Not just on the plate, no, they decided to leave an imprint of their boot in the food that was still on it. I'm surprised they didn't fall on their dumb face, as fast as they were going.

Why do so many people find it necessary to run in a hospital cafeteria!?

That was it. That was the fucking end of my being nice. I was done. I left the rest of the food and the plate on the floor. The fucking janitor can do his damn job and clean it up.

I stiffly speed-walked to the elevator, not caring who I bumped into; not bothering to move for anyone.

I was pissed.

I missed Pete.

I miss Pete.

I wish that were the only thing running through my mind right now. Sadly, though, that's not how I am when I'm angry. My thoughts were racing with profanities and nasty words against everything.