Immaculate Misconceptions Motionless In White

Condolences

Chris' eyes were focused on the ceiling. Although they were the only part of his body he still had control of at the moment, he didn't move them. He was not only paralyzed physically but he felt paralyzed mentally. Maybe only an hour ago he was crying over the bodies of two innocent children whose lives were taken because of him.

Because of Him.

They only frenzied to pull Chris away from the kids when he began to vomit violently, blood dripping from his lips.

They wanted to keep him alive.

For some reason they wanted to keep him alive.

He didn't want to admit it, he wouldn't admit it but he so badly wanted to take his last breath. He didn't want them to keep him alive... He wanted them to let him go. The only thing I believe that was keeping Chris fighting on the inside was the faces that were still haunting him. Not just the dead ones, the ones that cheered for him. The ones he shared the most memories with. He wanted to see them all again, at least once.

The "doctor" proved to be Glasses. Two men restrained the still crying Chris long enough for Glasses to inject the same blue liquid from the day Chris dislocated his arm and it sent an almost pleasant warm feeling throughout him as all his muscles relaxed and he fell silent.

He didn't watch as Glasses prepped a rather large needle that pierced into his abdomen. He could only take a sharp intake of breath as it stung his side which was almost as badly burned through as his arms and legs. The feeling was odd as it pushed through his skin, his muscles, and moved within him. The needle was thick and cold and it wiggled within him in search of something. It felt so unnatural and alien that Chris so badly wanted to squirm away but he couldn't move. The large needle found it's way to his stomach and punctured through it and immediately there was the sound of something trickling and hitting the surface of a container. It was a steady rhythm. Chris couldn't move his head to see but the needle acted like a funnel that helped remove the blood that was collecting within his stomach and possibly his lungs. The blood was collected in a large container and it almost sounded like a running faucet.

Immediately, Chris could start to feel a difference. The pressure within his stomach was so much that the blood rushed out quickly and the bloating within his abdomen was going down. The queazy feeling left him but his stomach still did flips. In about 5 minutes the steady stream started to slow down the the contents exiting his stomach was becoming bile more than blood. Glasses took a small tool and cut the thick needle close enough to his stomach that he wouldn't have a protruding rod in his side but the needle would stay there for future treatments. Next, he took a long sliver of rubber and pushed it carefully into the open canal of the needle where it would act as a plug. Lastly, he covered the small nub protruding from his side with a bandage.

He covered the container filled with Chris' own blood and left.

The two men were careful with him now as they picked him up and carried him back to the place where he once hung. The shackles were already lowered and they simply laid him down flat on his back and shackled his feet. They adjusted Chris to ensure he wouldn't roll on his side and risk the needle going further than it needed to be and with a sickening gentle movement, closed his eyes.

They left him laying there, a victim. Unable to sleep as the faces of the dead haunted him.

He'd wish they would've left his eyes open so he could stare at the ceiling until his eyes were dry.

~~

There was a knock on the side of Kuza's bunk causing him to pull the curtain aside slowly, "Yeah?" His throat was sore. Not just from the crying but the changes of weather caused him to grow ill. They had a day off today and they unfortunately would have to cancel tomorrow's performance in order for Kuza to recover his voice.