The Circle Of Us

Chapter Four

Dante carried a stack of clean clothing for the patients. He was a nurse, though, not legally. It's easy to obtain a nice-paying job when you know people. The green-haired boy loved this job, more than his first one. Being a nurse allowed him to release some of the dark demons that constantly clawed and ripped at his sanity, desperately trying to break him. He traveled down the visitor and patient infested corridor, slowly reaching his destination. Every now and then, the odd-eyed teen would enter a room and replace the besmirched clothing with cleaner clothes.

As his feet guided him to the last room on the third floor, he played with earring as if he was nervous. He wasn't, though. Dante deemed emotions as an obstacle that he had no time to be delayed with. It was possible that he said that to hide that fact that emotions seem to run away from him instead of chase him like normal people.

The boy stopped at the last door. On his right was an emergency door, and an unhurried old lady sauntered out of the room to his left.

He sighed. The only reason why he liked being a "nurse" more than a cashier for the dilapidated dollar store on the other side of town was because he had an ardor for blood, gore, and anything that makes most humans cringe. Hell, sometimes he was even allowed to watch them do surgery. Once again, perks of knowing people.

Dante gave three raps to the closed hospital door. He was forced to gain permission to enter; he'd rather just barge in, but that wasn't allowed, which he tended to detest. He adored breaking the rules, but he had to follow his jobs' rules because he had to support his brother and himself, while paying off the debt that his runaway parents never got around to doing.

He patiently waited like the good little boy he was . . . not. He was as bad as bad got. Though, he did wait, and as he did so, he thought about the patient on the other side of the door. He didn't know her, but he knew one of the patient's visitors. If he remembered correctly, her name was a color. Violet? No. Garnet? Pfft. Scarlett? Yes! That was it. Her name was Scarlett.

Now that he was running out of normal things to fill his mind with, the darker thoughts crawled their way into his mind. He tapped his foot like he would in band, his tick. He was growing impatient. A scowl was pulling at the corner of his lips.

"Come in," Scarlett called out to whoever was knocking on the door.

Dante turned the cold, metal handle and proceeded to enter. The room was exactly identical to the others, making the rooms seem more monotone and bland. The bed was against the middle of one of the walls. A plain, wooden drawer was on the bed's opposite wall.

The delinquent strided over to the drawer, opened it, and placed the clothing inside of it. He unknowingly let his gaze slip over to the patient in the bed. He heard the rumors that she tried to commit suicide. The strong urge to look at the cuts surged through his veins.

"If you want to change, there's some new clothing in the drawer I was just at," he said.

Scarlett stared as the green haired boy entered the room. He must have been around her age. As she kept looking at him there seemed to be something familiar about him.

"If you want to change, there's some new clothing in the drawer I was just at," he said to Rose.

Then he turned around again and, finally, she recognised him.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Scarlett exclaimed.

she was bound to figure out who he was sooner or later and this is the exact reaction he was looking for. Scarlett scowled at him.

Dante gave Scarlett a small smirk. "Scarlett, right?" He walked up to her, looking down. "I work here, duh," he said as if she was supposed to know that.