Torn (Second Series) {Completed}

11

•••

I sit in the hospital bed and wait for the results of the x-rays to come back.

After around 15 or so minutes, Dr. Hansen walks back into my room.

"S-so, the feathers that h-have been pulled out, um, won't be able to grow back and you won't be a-able to fly anymore. Would you l-like us to make a prosthetic w-wing?" He asked.

I nodded my head slowly.

"Ok, we'll s-start working on it n-now. But you have visitors, w-would you like to see t-them?" He questioned.

I nodded my head again.

"Alright." He smiled, walking over to the door and opening it. "You g-guys can come i-in."

Patton, Deceit, Thomas, and Logan, all walked into my room and Dr Hansen walked out.

"I'm so sorry for what you had to go through and I'm sorry I wasn't good enough for you..." Patton apologized.

"I am sorry for treating you unfair and taking my anger out on you." Logan sighed.

"Sorry for not being there for you when you needed me the most." Deceit looked at the ground guiltily.

"Sorry for treating you kinda like trash." Thomas apologized too.

"It's ok." I signed and smiled at them.

"Why are you using sign language?" Patton asks extremely concerned.

Because I feel like I might say the wrong thing on accident and then you or someone else will hurt me...

And of course, my jaw still hurts a bit..

"No reason." I smile at Patton, hoping he won't ask anymore questions.

"Well... If you say so....." Patton looks uncertain.

••• (time skip about a week and a half)

Dr Hansen comes into my room and smiles at me.

"The prosthetic w-wing is finished." He tells me. "We're gonna-"

"I don't wanna know the details, just do what you need to do." I say, waving my hands dismissively.

"Oh. O-okay." He nods and then pulls in a cart with a ton of stuff on it. It had so much stuff on it, that the author of this fanfic was too lazy to write down what the things were.

(Pretty much a ton of- you know what? I'm still too lazy)

Dr Hansen walks over to me with the cart and pulls a syringe off of it, he also grabs an alcohol wipe.

He wipes the alcohol wipe on my arm, then sticks the syringe needle in it, right where he wiped.

"Count to ten." He tells me.

"10."

I feel nothing.

"9."

I start to get a tiny bit tired.

"8."

A bit more.

"7."

My eyes start to droop.

"6."

I try to keep myself awake, but I get more and more tired by every second.

"5."

I start mumbling my words.

"4."

I think about Roman and I can feel a bit of heat rise to my face.

"3."

I forget about it.

"2."

I close my eyes fully.

"1."

I fall asleep.

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Word count: 499