I Hate You . . . I Think

Scratchy Pillows and Favors

HELLO EVERYBODY!!!!! So I am in such a good mood from last night’s Rookie Blue that I decided to post quickly :) Did anyone else think the episode was amazing?! 

Anyway, here is the next chapter and the song for this one is As Long As It Takes by The Spill Canvas. Please read, vote, comment, and recommend! Thanks so much and enjoy!!!! 

Chapter 36: Scratchy Pillows and Favors

Low

God, I really hate that beeping noise. 

I reach my hand over, trying to turn off my stupid hello kitty alarm clock that I am really contemplating on smashing with a hammer. A sharp, painful tug on my skin sends a hissing sound out of my mouth. I pull my hand back toward me and cradle it to my chest. My joints ache with that small movement.

What was that?

I force my eyes open, even though they feel like they weigh twenty pounds. Bright light blinds me for a couple of seconds, but I quickly blink my eyes and they adjust to the light. The room I am in is completely white. It looks like an extremely bright ice cube. 

I turn my head to the side. The pillow underneath me makes a scratchy crumbling noise that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. My fingers curl around the blanket lying across my body and loosen when another pain shoots through my hand. I flick my eyes down to my hands and see a white tube protruding from the blue vein under my skin. My eyes follow the tube up to the plastic bag hanging beside my bed.

What the heck?

I turn my attention back to my hands and see the scratches on my arms that look like they have been healing for some time now. How did those get there?

I scan the rest of the room and notice the heart monitor beating steadily in the corner of the room next to my bed. So that is what the annoying noise is. Man, it really sounds like my alarm clock. 

The white walls, bright lights, heart monitor, IV?

I’m in the hospital. 

I can feel the panic building up in my chest. What am I doing here? How did I end up here? 

Then I remember the car hurtling at me. I relive the pain flowing through my body and the small scream coming from the backseat. I start hyperventilating which is causing my extremely dry throat immense pain. The heart monitor picks up slightly and beeps faster, annoying me to no end. I see the numbers climb higher and higher as I become more and more anxious. It does not calm until I see the figure asleep in the chair beside my bed.

His hair is messy, just like his clothes which are rumpled from sleep. Purple bags sag under his long eyelashes that brush his cheeks. His body is sagged in the uncomfortable looking hospital chair and his hand is lying open on the bed next to my leg. 

Normally Seth looks peaceful when he sleeps, but he just looks exhausted and sad. I want to reach out and take his hand in mine for some sort of familiarity, some sort of comfort, for both him and myself . . . but I can’t reach it. I look around and when I find a pen on the table next to my bed, I force my exhausted arm to throw it at his chest. My arm is so weak that the throw does not get the pen anywhere near him, but the sound of the pen hitting the tile causes Seth to shoot up into a sitting position. 

His head whips back and forth, looking for whatever made the noise. His chest is heaving up and down, letting the small crinkles in his shirt smooth out. When he sees nothing, he relaxes back into his chair and rubs his hands over his tired eyes. The distraught look on his face is killing me. His hands drop into his lap and he lets out a sigh. His eyes close again and I know that I should let him sleep, but I can’t do that.