Fight or Flight

chapter 8: U still care

Thank you anyone who stuck with me through the whole chapter 5 debacle! srry but now I have new problems...how come my later chapters have more reads than my beginning ones? Anybody skipping around? tisk-tisk :(

the faint beeping noises are the first comprehensible thing to enter my consciousness. A slow and steady beat to represent my heart, which is strangely disconcerting. I focus on this rapid sound trying to cling onto my newly-found mental status (which is anyone at all). I tap my fingers to the same rhythmic melody over and over again, each time brings me closer to full awareness. I can picture the convulsions of my heart harmonise with the beeps in perfection, creating a soft drumming.

My eyes are closed and remain so longer than necessary, they feel heavy and ragged. much like me without the pain in the stomach. My eyelids flutter open, cracking apart a disgustingly sticky goo that grabs onto my eyelashes. And for a moment refuses to budge.

After a second of euphoria I see the white room and pacing monitors, that are endlessly beeping to the same reliable and relentless tune. My room is small and clean but almost unnervingly so. There is a square window in the corner flooding in light, paling the room even further.

I can feel the morphine pulsing through my veins in that same systematic flow.

My thoughts are broken and coming back in tainted fragments. The first to come was the memory of sizzling bacon from the morning before. I remember its salty taste swarming my mouth with its savory delight. The rough crunchy texture melting on my tastebuds and the crisp snap it makes against my teeth. Many more like that inhabit my mind before a more useful thought. How did I get here? I wondered for nearly no time at all. Ray has beaten me senselessly. Kicked my limbs raw and tried to cut open my throat. Impulsively I reach at my neck groping for a wound but only find a sliver of scab in its place. I recall almost every detail from the night before. I assume. I can remember the shrill voice of the lady answering my plead for pizza and the feeling of horror I received when it was not her at the door. I continue to contemplate trying to remember anything else but fail. I guess I licked the bowl clean of cookie dough.

The next thought: how long have I been here? In this startlingly sterilized room, subconsciously listening to the monitor's droning tick. Smelling the same cleaning product currently wafting through my nose threatening to suffocate me. Has it been hours? possibly. Days? maybe. Weeks? A chance, in my luck this is probable. I could have thought about this further but the verdict would be the same... unclear. Unknown and still needed.

Again I forgot about this thought because another comes flooding in, like a miserable tsunami... Basically any tsunami is quite depressingly satisfying. It wasn't a thought and it wasn't a memory. It was a strange combination of both, an ugly child would be the clearest comparison. Fractions of memories with captions written by me. I see the look on his face when I opened the door and just thought...How could I let this happen? Now comes the beating, hard kicks against my rib cage. I think about the pain, each section in acute definition. It came bellowing out from my stomach like a pack of lions raging wars inside my sore flesh. My legs felt torn and broken, along with my ribs and arms. The dramatic side of me is deciding my descriptions.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The door creaked open slightly. He walked hesitantly near my hospital bed, and placed a flower vase on the night stand. Apparently not noticing I was awake he placed his hand lucidly on the geometric bed sheets. I could see a hint of sadness in my eyes and it took all my effort not to smile.

"Hey?" I whispered shyly. My voice is raspy and strained. My throat is dry and craves nothing more than a glass of water.

startled he swings his head to me "kim..." I could tell he had more to say but falters mid sentence. I look down at my sheets, with a vaguely sour expression plastered on.

I wish he would say more, god knows I wish I could. I Know for a fact he has more on his mind than he is letting on. I want to scream how angry I am at him. And how I'm not exactly sure why. I'm over the break up, I have accepted it fully but I can't move on. Where do I go from here? He was my everything! I want him to tell me he is feels ashamed of the way he ended things, whether or not he regrets it. I don't care if he doesn't want me back (or atleast I understand) I just want to know he cares somewhat. I guess I could take the fact he is here as a good omen. A sign we are headed in a good direction...maybe even...friendship?(Not that you can ever truly be friends with your ex.)

~*~*~*~*~*~

"I-I" he stammers. I reluctantly look him head on, finding with my own the illuminating sparkle of his eyes. I miss that little glint.

"It's okay. I get it" I mumble, turning to my side as not to face him. He sits down next to me, I can feel his residual heat eminte through the bed and onto my wanting body. silence falls over the room like a hallucinogenic fog. Causing me to see visions of Neal and I happy again. I can see the same enchanted look on his face that is most likely on mine. "what is he thinking about" I wonder to myself.

after a long silence I speak, wanting to end the awkwardness before it consumed us.

"So what happened? You know after I passed out?"

"Well" he chuckled childishly "I kinda started to freak out and yell for help. In retrospect I could have called 911 earlier but I was scared" he trails off for a moment. "Umm, scared the police thought I did that to you" he quickly retorts. Normally this would have hurt me inwardly but I could tell by the way he was biting his lip he was lying. He was scared for me. This answers my questions

You know...its not nice to skip! to anyone who read all my chapters I am very thankful and luv you. To prove your not a skipper (not to be confused with stripper) VOTE/ COMMENT/FAN also im looking around for a new cover if anybody wants to help me out ;)