Real truth

Без названия, Часть 1

     Type did not know what day it was, he was completely lost in time. There was a continuous fog in his head, it was nauseating. He remembered how he resisted the hospital staff, how he was grabbed and tied, and then everything in his head was confused. Type did not know what these drugs were, but they somehow influenced his consciousness. Now he looked like a real mental patient, no one would understand that he was healthy. Taipa broke out in a cold sweat, he felt a sticky terror seize his body. There was only one thought in my head: "What if he was stuck in a mental hospital forever?"     

     He tried to calm down and exhaled slowly, no time to panic. For the first time, Type felt clearer, his mind blurred, but at least he understood what was happening. He slowly sat up on the bed, his body weak and unruly. For a second, the room swirled in front of his eyes, and nausea rose in his throat. Another deep breath helped, he just can't rush. Type felt as if he had had a cold for a long time. He looked closely at his hands, for some reason they were bruised. Type couldn't even remember why, and he suspected that it wasn't just his hands that looked bad. He sat on the bed and did not know what to do. He wanted to call someone for help, but it was scary to even make a sound. After all, his can again plunge him into this confused state, it was so scary. So he sat on the bed in a white, almost empty room with bars on the windows, gradually coming to his senses.

     Type flinched as the door to the room slammed open and stared in horror at the newcomer.     

     "You ...," Type whispered in a raspy voice, and immediately coughed.

     Tharn rushed to him and hugged him tightly, hugging the pale and haggard guy to his chest. It seemed that so he wants to protect Type from the whole world, to hide his in arms. Type smelled unfamiliar, some unhealthy smell of sweat and a mixture of drugs. The body in Tharn's hands seemed so fragile, his husband had lost so much weight this week.     

     "Go away," Type shouted, pushing Tharn away from him with all his might. But his hands only lightly hit Tharn on the chest, forcing him to pull away. He was too weak.

     Tharn was shocked by this reaction, but immediately pulled himself together and began to tenderly console Type "It's okay, dear, I came for you ..."     

     "You! You sent me here!" Type gripped her husband's crumpled T-shirt with twisted fingers. "Thought I wouldn't recognize ?! How could you?!"

     Type tried to punch Tharn in the face, but Tharn easily caught the arm raised for the blow. He gently kissed the spot on his finger where the wedding ring usually was. At this blatant tenderness, Type was blown away, his anger evaporated. Only powerlessness remained in him.    

     "Why?"Type asked plaintively, looking into Tarn's eyes. "For what? What is my fault in front of you?"

    "My beloved, you are not guilty of anything," Tharn gently stroked Type's cheek, his heart squeezing with pity. "It wasn't me ... Once Thorn figured out what was going on and was able to get me out of prison, we were able to prove that you were locked here illegally. I came right away for you."

     "Stop, stop ... prisons? "Type simply could not fully grasp the new information.

     "Yes, they set me up. They arrested me around the time they told me that you were here. " Tharn swallowed nervously, the words were clearly hard for him. "Type, that was your father."     

    "What?" Type staggered, but Tharn held him tightly in his arms. He understood that such news was a strong shock for his weakened husband. But it was impossible to lie in such a situation.