i slowly opened my eyes to bright fluorescent lights beating down on me. a heart monitor beside me beeped steadily, an IV coming out of my arm.
my head was pounding, i reached back to touch it and felt bandages wrapped around.
the room was empty, a sterile space devoid of anything personal or bright.
"fucking a prostitute" i said as my head threw back against the headboard of the hospital bed.
the hospital staff walked by slowly, touring my room like i was an exhibit at a zoo.
it immediately made me more nervous. i was alone in a hospital, i started to panic. the heart monitor beeped faster and my breaths became shorter.
my tongue clicked in my mouth loudly as i tried to calm down but couldn't. i hit myself in the chest again and again it hurt so much but i couldn't stop.
two nurses rushed in my room and checked my chart, they looked at each other with a look of confusion in their faces.
"stop don't do **oOoO** any - (thwap) anything" i struggled to get out as they were about to hold me down.
i flopped onto my stomach and grabbed the hair on the back of my head. i heard someone walk through the door and sigh, i immediately knew it was my father.
"just leave him, he eventually stops the temper tantrum" my dad sat down in one of the blue hospital chairs and pulled out his newspaper.
"sir, it says here your son has tourette's. it's not a temper tantrum he can't control it" one of the nurses hesitantly told my dad, little did she know that he didn't believe in that.
"if he actually tried to control himself he could" my dad rolled his eyes.
i groaned in pain from trying to hold in the tics, my head and chest throbbed from the constant blows.
"stop wanking in the corner" i shout as i clench my arms across my chest.
"what did you just say to me!" my father threw down his newspaper and walked over to the side of my bed. he stood over me, pure rage filling his eyes.
"give him some fucking drugs, that's the only reason he's doing this" he shouted at the nurse on the left, pointing to me like i was a piece of trash on the side of the road.
"the girl who brought him in said not to give him any sedatives, she said it makes him depressed" the nurse told my dad as she read over my chart.
i threw my head back again and then launched my body forward so my chest was in between my knees.
i felt a cold hand grab my arm, strong fingers that i knew all too well.
"i'm his fucking father, give my son something to stop him" my father held onto my arm for dear life as i strained against him, trying to hit myself in the chest.
"what the fuck is happening" alicia's voice was clear and strong as she walked in the door, her black doc martens squeaking on the linoleum floor.
"let him go you're making it worse" alicia scolded my father. he was so surprised he let go of my immediately, no one talked to him that way.
"hey, it's okay" she laid me back and placed a pillow on the backboard of the hospital bed.
"just be quiet and leave him alone" alicia snapped as she pulled up a chair beside me.
"so my mom came back from work with another dog" she talked to me as i continued to tic, it distracted me and made the attack pass much faster.
"it's a chihuahua so of course we had to name it beans" alicia laughed, beans was the name of their last chihuahua who passed away two years ago.
"shove it up your ass" i say and hit myself in the chest.
"it would probably fit up their its so small, i would do it to my sister but her heads already up there" alicia giggled and rolled her eyes.
it went on like this for about 15 minutes, my tics slowly stopped until i could finally feel relief.
"so what happened?" i say when i can finally speak, i rubbed my neck as it was extremely sore.
"you got a really bad concussion and you needed 17 stitches" alicia explained, her face was suddenly serious.
"that explains why my head hurts so fucking bad" i laugh and wince at the noise.
"that and the fact that two nurses and your dad let you slam your head against the bed a couple times without thinking to maybe put a fucking pillow there" she groaned, she was always the one looking out for me.
"ahh but that's *it is that* what **oOoO** i have - i have you for" i joked with her and saw her dimple slowly appear on her cheek.
four hours later i was lying in bed on my phone when i was airdropped a phone number, i accepted it and texted the number immediately.
hello? - me
thank god you accepted i was nervous - unknown
why would you be nervous - me
i just airdropped a cute boy my phone number how else am i supposed to feel - unknown
i'm gay - me
i know silly, as am i - unknown
who are you? - me
dylan, you? - unknown
drew - me
where are you? - me
that's for me to know and you to find out - dylan
well obviously you're in the hospital and you saw me which means you are close - me
or maybe i went past your room - dylan
nah you would have to be close enough to airdrop - me
my my, you're a detective aren't ya - dylan
you aren't giving me much to go off of - me
maybe that's because i don't want to be found - dylan
i respect that - me
you aren't the tiniest bit curious? - dylan
i'm better over text - me
you took the words right out of my mouth - dylan
YOU ARE READING
what makes us tic
Short Storydrew suffers from tourette's. he has no control over some of the things he says or does, often hurting himself and sometimes even others around him. his parents don't understand, and since the tics started emerging they distanced themselves farther...
