Origninal Over Fakes (Connor X Reader)

Chapter 4

Warning!

This chapter contains the topic of suicide and abuse. If you are uncomfortable with those topics, skip this chapter.

Sorry.

Your POV

At my desk, I read through my notes for biology, a coin rolling between my fingers. The desk light is dim as I study for the midterms.

"You should be sleeping?" Someone speaks. "You need at least eight hours of sleep." I hear the clicks of his shoes on the floor as he walks over.

"I don't have time," I reply, flipping the page. My eyes glance over and I mentally test myself about the terms.

"You won't be able to think if you don't sleep," Connor speaks.

I stop, my movements except for the warm coin rolling through my fingers. "No," I answer, continue to read. "I've got a day before the test. If I want to stay, I have to get an eighty."

There is a hint of silence before he talks again. "If you'd like, I can help you study."

-----

I feel like shit. There is the constant beeping of a heart monitor beside me.

That sound will be stuck in my head forever now.

Opening my eyes, I shut them again-- dim lights still bothering my eyes. I try to get up only for a hand being planted on my shoulder, holding me down.

"You need to lay down," a familiar voice speaks. My brain is in a minor daze, visions slightly still shifting. "You've got a concussion."

I let out a groan, hand resting on my head as I squeeze my eyes shut.

"I've just paged a nurse," Connor continues to speak. "Are you nauseated?"

"Just a bit dizzy," I reply. "Aside from that, I'm fine."

I haven't gotten a concussion like this since I was eleven.

"Hello, Miss. (L/n)," a lady speaks, softly. "I'm just going to do some quick assessments."

Even with that smile, I can pick up a tone suggesting something else.

"There is a psychological evaluation."

-----

Crossing my arms, I feel very irritated by the evaluation.

Static-- like trying to find a radio station in the middle of nowhere. It's loud and obnoxious but you can't get rid of it unless you turn off the radio. You can't turn off the human brain unless you kill it.

I'd still like to see another day.

"You are very stressed right now," Connor speaks, interfering with the static.

Taking a deep breath, I hold the air in my lungs to calm my body down. Feeling slightly better, I look back to the Android.

"Is it from the diagnosis?" He asks again.

"No," I answer, dropping my hands and shoving them into my pockets. "I already knew that I suffer from acute PTSD." Wake up in a nightmare that was once a reality. . . cold sweat and panting like someone released their grip after holding my head under water.