Sanitarium - Asylum Finale {Completed}

2. Alive and Grieving

Hey everyone! Sorry it's been such a long wait. My writing has been really sporadic lately, so I don't know when the next update will be. But, anyway, it's my brother's birthday, and that is why I'm here now! He was the main inspiration behind Trigger Shotgun from Asylum, so I thought it'd be nice to dedicate this chapter to him on his birthday! His name is smashpunygods here on Wattpad. He's got a story going, but he isn't actually much of a writer. Anyway, enjoy! Love you guys, you're the best fans ever!

"But you don't work here anymore. It's just a vacant three-by-four. And they might fill your place, a temporary stand-in for your face. This happens all the time and I can't help but think I'll die alone." --- Cubicles

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Alive and Grieving

Party's P.O.V.

I haven't slept in weeks. I'm relying on coffee to keep me buzzed and awake, only crashing and dozing every now and again, and only for fifteen minutes at the most. I sit diligently by the screens of my old office, watching and waiting for any news, any sign of Paranoia's whereabouts. It's been three months. Three whole months since I've seen her face. I keep expecting to turn around and see her standing behind me, giving me a weird look and asking why the undersides of my eyes are so dark. But she's never there.

I check the time again for the third time in the last twenty seconds. It's thirty-seven minutes past two in the morning, everything is dark, I can hardly see anything, and I have nothing to occupy my time with. Vengeance Fire sits with me most hours of the day, claiming to be just as concerned about the missing girl as I am. But he left for the night hours ago, leaving me all alone. Jet and Ghoul are most likely asleep in their rooms by now, Ghoul's leg having been deemed healed a few weeks ago.

I push myself to my feet, sending my office chair rolling backward a few inches, and walk to the door. I stride for the elevator, hearing my door swing shut behind me, and then I head for the hospital, going to visit the only person I know to still be awake at this hour.

Kobra lifts his head when I walk into his private hospital room. There's a book open on his lap that he's just flipping through, not even reading over the tiny printed words. The bags under his eyes aren't as prominent as mine, but only because once a week Jet slips sleeping drugs into his IV to knock him out for a few hours. Lack of sleep slows his healing process, but Jet does the best he can. Kobra doesn't suspect a thing, and I won't be the one to tell him that he's not actually failing to stay awake on purpose. He just can't help it.

"I'm assuming you're here because the search has come up with nothing and you're bored out of your mind upstairs," my brother says dryly, setting his book aside.

I take the seat beside him, the one Paranoia would always occupy. "How are you doing, Kobra?" I ask.

He forces out a short laugh, winching just slightly. The blast wound in his stomach still hasn't fully recovered yet. He's torn open his stitches three times already. "I'm the same as I was last night, Party. Still kicking. Still healing. Still waiting for Paranoia to come home."

We both fall silent, Kobra picking at a loose thread on his bed sheets and me anxiously rubbing my palms against my knees. The only sound in the room is the incessant beeping of Kobra's heart monitor that I'm not sure why he's still hooked up to. It was determined a while ago that he's no longer in critical condition.

I nervously twist my fingers together, staring at a corner of the room as a thought comes to mind. "Do you... Do you think she considers this her home?" I ask.

Kobra gives me a weird look. "What do you mean?"

I shrug one shoulder. "I mean, do you think the reason she left was because she didn't feel like this was enough of a home to stick around?" I don't want to believe it, but what other explanation can there be?