Drunken Moonlight

What's Happened to Me?

   ...dark. It was dark when I woke up in the hospital bed on that cold winter morning. I ached. Every single part of me hurt, and I felt sluggish in my movements. Not that I could move anyway.. I had been restrained to the bed I lay resting in. For a reason that I had already long since forgot. I only remembered the chilling, pale sun slowly rising into the air through my window and how it hurt my eyes when it reflected off the metal beams of the bed. How it warmed my bandages and my face. It was a calming warm, but didn't put my troubles at ease.

   I had apparently been mauled by some type of.. creature a few days ago, something large with claws and a crushing jaw. That would explain all my achy movements. They said it was a bear or a wolf; they didn't really even know just yet. I didn't care. I was tired, tired of feeling like this and feeling the pain.

   This would just add on to the list of why my mother thinks I'm a burden. She'll have to help me with the bill.

---

   "Only take 2 pills a day, one in the morning, and one at night. They should help with the pain of the attack, since it'll most likely linger for a few days."

   "Would I still be able to get a refill on my antidepressants?"

   "Of course; let me get straight to that."

   And now.. he was alone. Sitting on the hospital bed, clutching a pill bottle in his hand. He was tired. He had clear bags under his eyes, as if he had not slept in fifty years. His arms and shoulders still had bandages, and parts of his face were stitched together. The spitting image of a clear monster.

   The individual got up and left the bottle on the bed, heading to the bathroom to see how badly his face had been malformed. His short cut black hair was in his eyes, and he hadn't cut it in months. Not that he wanted to anyway. He looked at himself in the mirror, and tilted his face. The scars were deep and were bound to be there for years to come.

   'God, I look like a fuckin' mess... I can't wait to get out of this hellhole and go home.'

   Just about 2 hours later, he got home. Walking inside, he took a deep breath and yawned. He hadnt eaten very much between his attack and that day, so he figured that a snack or so would help his stomach. Yet.. something seemed.. off. His nose smelled everything he had in his kitchen, most specifically, the meat he had in the fridge. It had been laying there, defrosting, since the night of his attack.

   And the rich scent of iron filled blood fueled his animalistic senses. He rushed over to the fridge and yanked the door open, grabbing the plastic wrapped meat and tearing open the packaging. He devoured the meat like a ruthless, wild animal, hands becoming bloody and unclean, getting chunks of the slab underneath his nails. He had no control over himself or his hunger.

   HUNGRY...

   A voice called to him in the back of his head when he finally gained control of himself, and he froze in disgust and terror at his hands. They were meaty, covered in chunks of beef and bloody. He took shaky breaths and looked around, seeing the bloody plate the meat was on shattered on the floor. "What the fuck.." He mumbled, touching his face. He ran to the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, he nearly threw up.. his face was covered in gore.

   He cussed in anger and washed his face and hands quickly, running to his room afterwards. He pulled a black book from underneath his mattress, with the name "Gabriel" on the front in silver lettering. Grabbing the nearest pencil, he opened the book and began to write.

I don't know what's happened to me, but.. I'm scared, and I don't know if I'll get food poisoning. I just ate raw meat. I can't remember eating it either, and I'm fucking scared. I hope this isn't an after effect of my new medications. Fuck my life.

I just want one day where something isn't going wrong for me, or my phsyical health.