thirty-five | secret agent seven of spades

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𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚢-𝚏𝚒𝚟𝚎 | 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚜

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𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚢-𝚏𝚒𝚟𝚎 | 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚜

The beeping of my steady heartbeat woke me up over an hour ago. It's an irritating sound. Thank you technology, for making me aware that my heart is still beating. Honestly, I think I'd rather be dead than listen to this bullshit any longer.

Sitting here in silence listening to the beeping. It's beyond annoying. 

My eyelids felt too heavy to open my eyes, so I kept my eyes shut. Listening to the rhythmic sounds of my own heartbeat. It's been making me lose my mind, but I don't feel like opening my eyes yet. It hurts too much. The hospital lighting might literally blind me.

This beeping is the sound that slowly descends a human being into madness. It's torturous. Just like the ticking of a metronome. Awful.

A swift breeze swept through the hospital room. I cracked an eye open and saw the bland colors of the walls. Small trinkets dedicated to London landmarks were everywhere. My eyes shifted down to see that I was in my own bed. My parents blanket was underneath me.

Those bland walls were from my bedroom. Small London-themed knickknacks were stacked on my dressers. An IV went into my veins and was attached to my nightstand. I'm laying in my own bed, but the shocking discovery was that I'm laying in my bed with my door wide open. That never happens!

My door is never allowed to be open.

What fucking idiot declared that my bedroom door was allowed to be open?

"Son of a bitch," I winced when I tried to sit up. "Okay, moving ... not my best idea."

On cue, Grayson came barreling into my bedroom like a man on a mission. His big brown eyes were wide and wild behind his glasses. I don't think he expected me to live through this. He couldn't look at one place for more than a second. Focus Nine! He started looking at my vitals and examining my heart rate and blood pressure on the monitors.

"How are you feeling, Seven?" Grayson asked, not looking at me. His eyes were focused on looking at the monitors. "How long have you been up?"

I shrugged. "An hour?" I guessed. "How long was I out?"

"Five days," Grayson murmured. My own eyes went wide. Fuck! Five days? It felt like a few hours. "It's rude you didn't wake up when your big brother was in here begging you to wake up."

"I'll remember that for next time," I said sarcastically.

Grayson aggressively rolled his eyes at me. I'm surprised they didn't get stuck in the back of his head. If Grayson Alderidge a.k.a Secret Agent Nine of Clubs was able to get his way, there'd never be a next time as long as I live. He'd keep me locked in my bedroom like a real life Rapunzel. I'd be the first ever dark haired and murderous Rapunzel, but I'd still be locked in isolation.

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