Sincerely, Emily ✓

22 • Sherlock And Watson, Action!

THIS DAY JUST kept getting weirder and weirder.

He was paler than I remembered. His blonde hair was messy and looked dirtier. His blue eyes, that were once bright, was dimmed. And he looked like he was about to sleep.

I squinted, trying to look closer. Was that really him? It might be a person who only resembled him. But then again, if it was him. . .

I waited until the people were gone. The room was quiet yet again, and I took my chance.

"DEVON."

Part of the curtain was still opened a bit, and I saw him snapping his head back and forth, trying to find the source of the voice. At first I thought he was awake in the first place, faking his sleepiness to get rid of the doctors. Although, I realised he probably was sleeping. I guess he was just shocked that a robotic voice was addressing him. I would've panicked, too.

Apparently, "PSSTT" in robotic language wasn't as effective as saying the real one. It sounded creepy and weird. Finally, I managed to say, "OVER HERE. TO YOUR RIGHT."

He whipped his head to my direction, and his eyes widened. Mouth parted.

"Holy sh — "

"Ssshh!" A nearby nurse scolded to a patient in my other side. Devon flinched, but still continued to stare at me like I was some mythical creature. I was pretty sure I was looking at him the same way, too.

"Emily?" he whispered. "How — why are you —"

"ALS."

That was all I needed to say for him to understand. I could see his features softening in understanding, and I knew he was flashing back his memories to the signs. When he bullied me because of my twitching, tripping and slurring. Everything that he tormented me for was because of the Thing, and he knew it.

He cursed. Again and again. "God, Emily, I don't know where to start. I know you'll never forgive me for what I did to you. Trust me, I wouldn't, either."

I waited for him to continue.

"But please, forgive me. I'm sorry." He rambled on. "Look, I don't know how to begin to explain this, but the reason I treated you the way I did wasn't because of you personally. It's because of me. It's always been because of me."

Now that sparked my attention. Even though my gaze drifted to the ground, I was still intrigued. Maybe I was going to forgive him; maybe I wasn't. But there was something way more important, something eating my brain.

"WHY ARE YOU HERE."

He licked his lips, pushing himself up. It was weird that I just realised he had a wound on his head, cheek and arms. There was even a cut on his lip.

Devon laughed but there was no smile in his eyes. "Intermittent explosive disorder. I'm way too impulsive, violent and aggressive. I throw things and have temper tantrums everyday. You never see it, Emily," he added, sensing my shock and confusion. "In school, I always try to wear it down. Lashing out to everyone else just makes me feel better. What I do to people in school — insulting them, hitting them, all sorts — is actually the safest thing I could've done. Actually, now that I think about it, school is my anchor. My only problem is back home."

When he said "home," I couldn't help but think about his parents. Yes, my thoughts wandered to her for a while, but I had to focus on the boy in front of me. I'd never really seen them in person; which was weird, due to the fact that I'd been in the same school with him for three years.