Diseased | #wattys2016

Chapter 5

Riley's knee seemed to never end its continuous bouncing up and down, slightly moving her thigh's flesh. There wasn't much to move anyways; she was relatively always a skinny girl.

She reads the time on the clock, counting down the minutes she has to head back to her ward. Riley's thoughts permanently astray on the pen and paper in her room, the thought of Andrew finding her secret causing her leg to ferociously gain speed, her breathing irregular. 

One-minute left. She thought to herself, jittery all over. Her skin felt uncomfortable; like bugs have been climbing every inch of her body, making her feel the need to check once in a while if there was, indeed, something on her, wiping and scratching the more severe areas.

Did Andrew find the paper? How had he reacted? Is he going to report me?

Riley's endless questions clouded her thoughts, making her come up with the most irrational scenarios.

Only forty seconds. Almost there.

Riley felt like this was one of the worst unintentional tortures, her body urging her to find answers. She felt like standing up and demanding for them, screaming until she forgets all her problems; falling into a well obtained rest. And, somehow, it all dates back to the strongest urge of all: to run.

She knew running wouldn't really help anything. She knew it would only make things worse; it'll only make her look guiltier. But somehow, it felt like her body could never fully register the weight of the transactions, only feeling this need to leave. Not only did her body want to follow through, giving into her confusing desires, but she craved for it. And she sure needed it.

The ringing in her eyes seemed to be never-ending as she bolted from her chair as the bell rang, singling her temporary guard to guide her back to her ward.

Riley liked it there better; she hated her nerves tensing when the guards' eyes would skim hers, disgust clearly shown on their faces. Some would smirk, obviously checking her out, her body shivering from their wandering vision. At least in her ward, people don't seem to judge her as much. She could tuck herself away, alone, in the corner of the room where her rigid bed lay near; yet somehow more comforting than her previous installments she was forced to call home.

As Tom, a guard who seemed acceptable, walked Riley to her room, she couldn't be more than happy as she stumbled into her ward. She waited impatiently for him to leave, her figure dashing to her bed. On first sight, nothing seemed to unusually. The smell of clean bedding invaded her thoughts, as it being hit by a wave of warmth. She was just about to check under the bed, as Andrew walked in.

"Here to escort Riley to the restroom." a voice spoke out from across the hall, cold as ice.

Riley seemed to have trouble recognizing it, for the detached tone isn't something she could match with the man she started to get to know. It was with no doubt that man was Andrew, yet he managed to sound like her enemy more than her friend.

The guard that monitors the halls gave a silent nod to him, allowing him to carry onward. Andrew's footsteps sounded harsh, like a dull beat whacking the worn out floor. His back was held straight, stoic and present. Nothing like the bouncy, carefree boy everyone knew him as.

As he opens her ward gate, Riley bolts upwards, ready to subtly ask him if he discovered her secret or not. But as soon as she began to merge her words together, thinking over how she'll bring the subject up without sounding suspicious he is standing in front of her ward.

"Patient 647, located in Section 5, I am here to escort you to utilize the facilities. Come with me." He calls.

On any other day, Riley would giggle on how Andrew was so formal to have said the word utilize instead of use, and comment how weird he sounds and that probably wasn't even how the word was supposed to be used. But his tone and posture rattled Riley, making her feel scared and alone, baking down from using the speech she constructed in the least few seconds.