Depraved • C.H

One Last Time

A/N: Sorry for the late ass update :/ please read the recent community post on my page, it has information regarding this story and other stuff. Thanks lots

-N

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Goosebumps ran along Indigo's uncomfortably cold skin, while the outside air was humid and generally hot, the hospital kept the air conditioning on constantly. An involuntary shiver made its way down her spine, awaking her from her slumber. As her eyes fluttered open she glanced around the dimly lit hospital room, reality once again setting in.

What time is it?

She flipped her phone over, grabbing it from her pillow, the screen being initially bright enough to nearly blind her. "Fuck". She mumbled to herself, noticing it was only a bit past 11pm. She only managed to fall asleep less than an hour ago, the insomnia and uncomfortable bed was a brutal combo. Pulling the thin blanket up to her chin, she felt slightly better, finding comfort in the morsel of warmth she managed, but that wasn't enough to prevent the random occasional cold chills.

She began to wish Luna would've stayed with her, so at least she'd have someone to talk to, but Indigo insisted she go home to get some sleep in a real bed, and finally she agreed, promising to return in the morning. She would be so grateful when it would be her turn to leave, the hospital was never a fun place to be in, but unfortunately she figured the next two weeks at a mental facility would be even worse.

While her suicide attempt was more of an accident than an attempt at all, she was still very aware that she needed help. Her mental state had been spiraling for a while now, so this overstimulation of new activities, people, and places was bound to be the straw that broke the camel's back. Therapy truthfully intimidated her, spilling her heart out to a stranger for crazy amounts of money was less than ideal, but her insurance apparently covered it, meaning the only thing holding her back was her own anxieties, rather than financial setbacks. She decided she'd felt like shit for too long, she was done with the breakdowns, the self harm, and the mood swings, or at least she hoped, either way she was willing to try.

The horror stories she'd heard about mental facilities was enough to fuel her nightmares, she despised the idea of being babysat 24/7, and fed pills she didn't need, not to mention half of the people come out worse than they came in, but fuck it she had to rebuild herself, and that meant trying every possible method to aid her recovery.

On the bright side of her current situation she was moved to another room, a tad more furnished with a small couch and books, although the comfortable suede sofa didn't do much good for her, she was still stuck laying on her brick-soft mattress. Either way she appreciated the atmosphere more, it was nice to be away from that room, in the brief time of her staying hospitalized she quickly made not so great memories.

Her stomach bubbled with emptiness, the loud rumbling truthfully scared her a bit, jumping at the sudden sound. She hadn't had much of an apatite, most of the time she could barely manage to keep her eye open, ever since she regained consciousness she was terribly exhausted. She fantasized about the food that she could get outside these walls, remembering the chicken tenders she ate on her way here, how they were perfectly seasoned, with a bit of spice. At this point she'd even settle for a sloppy 'value menu' burger from the nearest fast food place, but she was told not to leave yet, so she'd have to settle for some flavorless cafeteria food.

She slowly hoisted herself out of bed, almost instantaneously stumbling into the nightstand like a wobbly, inexperienced doe still learning to use their legs properly. She steadied herself by using the bed railing, until her muscled eventually adjusted to her weight. A wave of nausea set in, she really needed to eat something. Sure she could've just called for a nurse to bring her something, but where's the independence in that?