Hide Behind Trouble - Kellic

17. aw fuc it with titles

I can't stop

~_~_~_~

It was bright. So, fucking bright. The side of my head was wet, warm. It hurt so bad, Jesus fuck. But what I cared about most was Vic, being held back while I was rolled away.

What?

I was in a hospital. I was being saved. I tried to move, but I only fell back and let my eyes close from exhaustion.

Oh well.

I'd probably die. A bullet to the head, having bled for so long. I wouldn't live.

~_~_~_~

Alas, that was bullshit. Apparently.

I was in darkness, but it felt light. Like I'd open my eyes and it would be bright. I heard muffled voices occasionally, but I couldn't make out who was speaking and what they were saying. Sometimes I'd wonder it was sobs rather than words. Sometimes it probably was.

God knew how long I'd been like that. Probably rotting away in a hospital bed. I wasn't supposed to live. I hoped that I'd die anyways, having been in such terrible condition. Life support, unable to breathe on my own. They pulled the plug, and I'm dead.

But that didn't happen. Instead, one fine morning (or night; god knew time anymore), my eyes decided they'd had a good enough vacation, along with my whole body. Too bad, a permanent leave would be pleasant.

I was alone. A small hospital room with flowers and balloons hanging on my bed. How long had I been asleep for? Days? Weeks? Months? Years?

Comas were unpredictable, they could take however long they wanted. If my elongated sleep was even a coma.

"Hello?" I croaked out. Okay, sore throat. Longer than a few hours.

Despite how weak my body felt, I stood from my bed on shaky feet. I immediately collapsed, feeling my head spin. But I pulled myself up and stumbled over to the mirror.

My hair was greasy, disgusting. A white bandage was wrapped around my forehead. So I hadn't been there long enough for my injuries to heal, I think. That was good. So no more than a month. Right? How long did it take head injuries to heal?

I walked back to my bed, staring down at the clipboard attached to it.

'Kellin Quinn
Suicide attempt, shot in the head
Administered: January 1st'

I grimaced at the words. Suicide attempt. It wasn't wrong though, I guess.

I walked to the door and opened it quietly, peeking outside in the hall. It was empty, aside from a stretcher sitting outside of a room. I walked out, looking around. Something was down the hall, people. I walked towards them, trailing my hand against the wall. Partly for my own reassurance if I fell again.

"Excuse me, miss?" I asked the woman sitting at the front table, filling out papers. She looked up at me, confused, until recognition came.

"You're a patient, yes?" She asked. I nodded while she glanced at her computer. "Kellin Quinn?"

"Kellin?!" Someone shouted. I looked down the hall, where my room had been, as Vic stood there with spilt coffee by his feet. At the sight of me, he started running, enveloping me in the tightest hug. I could barely breathe.

"I thought I lost you," he whispered. He was crying.

"I'm okay," I assured him with a small chuckle.

"Come on, you should be in bed," he directed me.

"I'm fine, Vic, let me walk around," I whined.