A Different Path

Chapter Ten - The Point of No Return

The pain was the first thing that hit him when he opened his eyes again. His ankle had felt worse before, but it hadn't been this bad in a long time. Slumped with his back against the door, he scanned the room for anything that could alleviate the terrible throbbing. At the far end of the shelf with the yellow bottles, a big red box with a white cross on it caught his attention. He slowly got up, making sure to only put his weight on his good leg, and hopped over to the shelf, one hand firmly pressed against the wall for support.

"This'd better have something useful..." he sighed as he grabbed the box. He sat back down again and opened the lid with his eyes closed, wishing for the best.

He couldn't help but faintly smile as he unpacked the first aid kit. Cooling gel, disinfecting wipes, all sorts of bandages, painkillers; everything he needed was in there. He applied a thick layer of the gel on his ankle and left it uncovered to dry, as the packaging had advised him to. He then started cleaning the numerous scratches on both his arms. The alcohol in the wipes prickled in his fresh wounds, causing him to feel slightly anxious as it resembled the mosquitos' stinging. He listened for them, but only heard the soft buzzing of the lights above his head. He gritted his teeth, ignored his chaotic thoughts, and kept going. After cleaning them, he loosely wrapped his lower arms with elastic bandages, making sure he couldn't hurt himself any further. He then turned back to his ankle, softly running his fingers through the cold, light blue gel. He had no idea how, but the throbbing had become significantly less already. Still, he knew he'd have to somehow make a brace for it if he wanted to walk any time soon. He grabbed a few more bandages and tightly wrapped them around his ankle, each new one on top of the previous. After three layers, he stopped, no longer able to move his ankle even the slightest bit.

"Guess Clint and Jeff would've been proud..." he said a little hoarsely. He really missed the two Med-jacks who he had spent so much time with after his accident. Even though he had hated all their care and attention at the time, he had later realised how grateful he should have been. Yet, he had never thanked them for it, and, no matter how badly he wanted to now, he never will.

He quickly downed some terrible tasting painkillers with the water he had got from Minho. While he gave them some time to start working, he gathered the courage needed to actually get up again. After what had felt like half an hour, he figured it was time to give it a go. He slowly stood up, heavily leaning against the wall. The pain, even though bearable, really upset him.

"He could've just told  me to let go, but no, let's kick me, that's fun," he scoffed to no one in particular. He took a few careful steps, and even though his limp was horrible, he could in fact walk, and that's what mattered most to him. Walking, pacing, running, just moving had always been his way of relieving stress and anger, and having that taken from him by someone other than himself was devastating to him. He hobbled across the room, trying to find the least painful way to walk.

"Fun," He groaned as he put his weight on his bad leg. "So. Much. Fun. And why?" He walked over to the door and rested his head against the smooth wood. He grabbed both sides of the doorframe and squeezed them tightly, tensing every single muscle in his wiry arms.

"Because Minho wanted to. Because Minho  thought it was a good idea. Because MINHO only cares about HIMSELF!" He sighed and closed his eyes. "So maybe it is time for Minho to learn that a certain boy is done with him. Not just with him. With him and all of his loathsome little friends who think it's a good idea to keep that certain boy LOCKED UP IN A TINY ROOM WITHOUT DAYLIGHT WHERE NO ONE  WILL EVER FIND HIM!" He yanked at the door handle in frustration, and to his surprise, he wasn't met by any resistance. He gently pushed down the handle once more and pulled, just slightly opening the door. A billion thoughts were running through his mind, but only one prevailed.