One Shot Series 3

Out Of One's Mind

It's a universally acknowledged rule that being forgotten hurt more than anything else. Being forgotten was laying in the king-sized bed by herself, the sheets feeling frigid against her skin. Being forgotten left her at midnight, with the window open, hoping the demons would come swallow her, because right now, they're just nibbling off excruciatingly small pieces. Demi stared up at the few stars the city lights let peak through, wishing she could become one of them. The breeze of the night flows through her window, and she hopes it would swoop her in to its arms and take her away. It was never that easy though; she can't just be taken away. She's stuck there, suffocating, trying to be remembered. In some cases, she could get stuck forever.

Justin took a deep breath in as he stepped in to the massive building of corpses and aches. A little body clung to his neck, small hands fisting the hair at the nape of his neck. Justin smiled weakly at his two year old son, Michael.

"Mommy." Michael mumbled, burying his face in Justin's neck. He recognized the hospital. Justin didn't bring them often, maybe once every two weeks; he didn't want to traumatize them. He just wanted them to remember their mother's face.

 Demi smiled wide as she held Michael in her arms. "He's the most beautiful boy I've ever seen," she breathed out, tears in her stunning coffee brown eyes for the fifth time that day. Justin grinned down at his wife and his newborn son. Michael's eyes opened from his nap, and he looked up at Demi. His eyes were just like hers. "I'm Mommy, baby. Study my face, that's right. You'll never forget me right?" she asked with her soft voice.

Carrying two year old Alicia in his arms, Justin chuckled. "Probably not sweetheart. You've had him in your arms almost all day. He's had no choice but remember your face." Demi grinned and stuck her tongue out at her husband.

"Good."

Justin gulped. "Remember, no calling her Mommy, Michael," he replied in a hushed tone as if someone was eavesdropping on them. "Alicia, remember, no saying mommy." He looked down at the golden-brown eyed girl who gripped his fingers tightly with one hand and carried a bouquet of red roses in the other. She merely nodded.

"No Mommy," she uttered, looking down. Justin sighed and kissed Michael's forehead, as they stepped in to the elevator. He looked at the number 9 and inhaled deeply, skimming his finger over it, the words haunting him. Alicia looked up at him and blinked innocently before extending her small finger towards the button. Justin furrowed his eyebrows and gently slapped her hand away. He didn't want to curse them with the nightmares he had of the number. He pressed the button of the mental health floor with a shaky finger.

When they got there, Justin stepped onto the white floor. He tightened his grip on Michael and brought Alicia closer to his body. Every step felt like there were sharp pieces of glass beneath his feet and his legs were set on flames. His rib cage was tightening around his lungs. His vision became slightly hazy and his footsteps lagged down a little.

"Justin? Good afternoon," a composed voice interrupted his short panic attack; it wasn't anything he wasn't used to by now. He looked at the small woman standing a few feet across from him.

"Afternoon Liz," he greeted the nurse who took care of his wife. She gave him a reassuring, warm smile.

"She's doing good today. Very calm and happy."

"That's great to hear," Justin said under his breath. Liz sighed and nodded, walking away. Justin walked to the familiar door that he's been standing in front of every day since Demi was moved here. Justin's breath stopped for a moment and he closed his weary eyes. Alicia looked up at him and squeezed his hand.

"It's okay Daddy," she said, smiling her angelic smile up at him. She had Demi's smile. It kept him going most days; what kept him from flinging himself at the demons. He smiled feebly back at her and gripped the doorknob, turning it in his sweaty palm.