Shifting Socks

I Find It Hard To Breathe

Sanha flinched away from grueling memory. "Fucking Christ!" he whispered brushing his hair out of his face. He halted in front of his bags, hauling them over his shoulders. Orange locks ducked forward, he hissed as the bag grinded the glass deeper into his back. This is not how he had planned for today to go, with tears still clinging to his lashes sanha headed to the bus stop. It was very inconvenient, but he needed to get to the hospital. Rain fell steadily on his backside dripping from his slender neck, and into his shirt. His mouth hung loosely open, water occasionally falling between his plush pink lips. The cold soothed the angry cuts on his back, as the chafing backpack roared them back to life. In front of the bus stop sat a covered bench, sanha found a slight solace under the clear awning. His body convulsed with shivers his breath quick and shallow. His eyes drooped, his face felt flush, upset by the cold around him. The air he sucked in felt like hot flowers blooming in his windpipe, the air he exhaled was in white puffs of misery filled mist. His long digits poked in and out of the holes in the rusty metal bench he sat on, slick and cold with water they never became stuck. He looked around his brown eyes in a hazy stupor, unable to focus on the many swaying trees around him. Blinding headlights curved around the corner. Sanha looked up at the bus stopped before him, slowly and with his body screaming to stop he roused and climbed the steep steps. He wobbled down the aisle, finding an empty seat in the bare bus was not hard. Once he did he practically collapsed into the seat frightening the bus driver. Sanha pressed his pale cheek to the window, it provided temporary relief before it slowly heated up itself. Night had fallen before the bus had even reached its second stop of many. Shivers covered the thin boy his head felt light as a cloud, his long fingers rubbed the burnt orange leather seats. His body fell in and out of a fully conscious state, his breath was slow and shallow. He struggled not to shift in the presence of the few others on the bus, but sheer exhaustion was roughly grinding against him.

Brown eyes gently opened, sanha vaguely heard his stop called. He gathered his things, sweat clung to his brow. Long awkward limbs rose from the seat, and staggered down the aisle. Once he had left the bus cool air and frozen drops of rain attacked his body. Just across the street sat the hospital gently taunting him. Hazily he crossed the street, by now the blood from his nose ran down his chin mixing with the water around him. It slowly escaped down the collar of his white shirt, surely it was stained. His feet fumbled about in a dastardly way before he slowly stumbled through the hospital's glass sliding doors. The room felt oddly hot, sanha fumbled around like a drunkard pulling at the hem of his black sweatshirt. Once he made it to the front desk sanhas lips felt numb, nearly unable to speak he muttered lowly to the nurse behind the desk. "I need stitches, please." his voice sounded wheezy in his own ears. The lady behind the counter, a young blonde, looked up to sanha. A soft gasp left her mouth, as she quickly rose from her seat, jumping around the counter. She guided sanha, a hand on his lower back through stark white halls. "I'll get you a doctor, you don't look good at all." her hand pulled away as she said this examining the watery blood on her palm, her eyes looked to sanha and she opened a door behind her. A bed sat silently inside the room, sanha physically eased at the sight. Pour little sanha had never been so excited to see a bed in his entire life. She helped him sit on the plush bed before taking his bags and setting them on a nearby chair. "I'm going to go now, a doctor will be with you soon." her voice was soft, filled with unknown worry.

Once she was gone sanha pulled his sweater over his head, all hints of gentleness gone with his fatigue. The carrot topped boy hissed biting his tongue as the shards pulled themselves away with the black fabric. After the large wet sweater had been removed sanha carefully balled it up, trapping any glass inside before tossing it with his other belongings. "My shirt!" he whined aloud, while pulling the moist cloth from his torso. It was stained a soft pink that guided into a crimson red at the collar. Sanha swiped the back of his hand across his nose smearing blood about. He felt like he was on cloud nine, the crown of his head tingled softly. With a sigh sanha pushed the feeling away. He had never been good at not shifting, today had been tough on him and he needed to hold on just a bit longer. Yet, his entire body seemed to fight him. His legs shook, his eyelids drooped and sanha swayed to the left. His head heavy and burning with the desire to shift. The pale skinned boy held his breath, letting a long, long sigh escape his lips his head falling back into a breakneck position. The room smelt sterile, a clock ticked idly in the background. His body felt numb, his ears rung. Sanha let his pale arms hold him up as he leaned back, his neck still jerked back awkwardly. He let his eyes fall closed, the room around him was small and white. Idle just as the rest of the hospital. Bustling was heard outside the door, and it finally creaked open. The soft boys ears rung louder than the sound of the door opening, so there he stayed leaned back. His breath slow, horse, heavy and loud.