Kolors

01

Sakura

A soft, repetitive, beep echoes through the room as I open my heavy eyes. The ceiling is a cleanly white and I can't help but close my eyes once more from the brightness of it all. Unintentional tears well up in my sensitive eyes as I pry them open forcefully. This room is foreign to me. There are no rooms like this in the manor. Through squinted eyes I look down at my body and instinctively panic, thrashing about, hoping to pry off the restraints. The leather is secured tightly over my arms and legs. I scratch at myself, picking at the skin, until I come to the realization that I had never been bound to the bed. I rub my wrists gently as panic settles over my heavy body. Father.

He had been with me last. Why is he not with me now? I frantically turn my head from side to side knowing I am alone at the moment and yet find it in myself to believe I am not. I couldn't possibly be without either of them. Father must be hiding beneath my bed or waiting for me outside the door. A terrible throb pangs against my forehead and I hold my head in my hands hoping to ease the pain away. I have to leave this room before they come back for me. I know I must.

Move. I attempt swinging my legs over the edge of the bed finding that one of them wouldn't respond no matter how badly I wanted it to. The memory of father having bitten into it flashes through the incessant throbbing in my head as my breath hitches. Expecting the worst, I lift the neat blanket that covers my body and choke on a sob at the sight of my legs. Both are bruised, whilst the left leg has thick stitches running across the torn flesh. I have to move. I can't let them find me. I'll throw myself from the window if I must. Anything than seeing them again. Using my arms I toss my legs over the side of the bed and push myself up from the bed hastily. The moment my toes meet the floor a deathly cold rings up into my weak knees that then buckle miserably beneath my weight. I couldn't catch myself and collapsed onto the white floors bringing something metal down with me. If they hadn't known I was awake before, they certainly know now. Blood trickles down my arm and I see some sort of plastic wrapping around the inside of my elbow. The door swings open and I flinch. Remaining my stare on the ground.

"I haven't done anything," I immediately state through trembling lips. Sweat rolls down my clammy face.

"Oh dear," a woman mentions as if caught by surprise. "Let me help." She comes to my aid and pries me off of the floor. I stare at her wide eyed as she checks me for any injuries. She reaches for the needle I had accidentally twisted inside of my arm and I smack her hand away. It hadn't been entirely voluntary, my response to her concern, I only meant to protect myself. "I must change your IV and by the looks of it your bandages as well. No funny business," the nurse promises.

"Enough now," the young nurse's voice whispers through my ears and I stiffen considerably.

"Where am I? W-Why am I here? She's here isn't she—" I begin to panic.

"You need to relax or else I could hurt you," the nurse struggles to land a stick on my arm as I shake terribly. A struggle of strengths ensues between us until she utters the words "I'm sorry."

A discomforting sensation runs through my neck as my body grows heavier and heavier. I couldn't control myself any longer after what had been a minute. The nurse carries me back onto the bed after changing the sheets and I simply watch her as she disposes of the faulty IV. Her short black hair is pinned away from her face by two hair clips on either side of her head in the order of dark green and light green. I hadn't ever seen her before. I'd certainly remember if I had.

"You shouldn't be walking out from your bed. You've suffered grave injuries. We must clean you." As she speaks, her mouth is much faster than the sound of her voice. My mouth hangs open as I force my speech.

"Where..." I strain.

"It's best you don't overextend yourself. I had to sedate you."

I swallow hard and attempt speaking one last time despite not being able to process coherent words. The nurse eventually produces a large bucket with soapy water and a thick unopened sponge. She undresses me and I train my sight on anything but my body. Her touch is gentle as she scrubs away any dirt, focusing mainly on my leg stitches. Bandages are then wrapped around the wound to hide the disaster that lay beneath. I want to be left alone. I want for her to stop. I groan to try and tell her but it's as if she couldn't hear me. The nurse leans me forward to button up the back of a baby blue gown made of napkin-like material. She then lays me back down and fixes the position of the bed, through a remote, into a sitting position.