Whumptober 31 End?
No. 31: “I thought that I was getting better.”
Emptiness | Setbacks | “Take it easy.”
Hummingbird 31
(All the TWs still apply: emotional whump, gore, confusion, drugged, despair, aftermath of self-harm.
Have to admit, over my personal journey throughout whumptober I had to realise I'm actually a creep. I didn't know, that I could tap into this genre of a creepy, manipulating, lying, emotional disfuncting whumper and that I do like to write about it sooo much.
Apparently I'm a creep, creeping myself out for being this creepy, that's just mad and y'know creepy.
For what it's worth. I'm sorry, Sam! Thankyou for reading, reblogging and liking. I hope you had some fun! So enough blabbering for now, please enjoy.)
Whole story starts here, if you like / previous
...
Only very shallow, but Sam was still breathing when Grey pressed his slack form into a bridal carry against his own chest and made long brisk steps into the ER.
Grey was sitting alone in the hallway. He couldn't share the waitingroom with all these desasterous creatures. This was about his hummingbird. He needed to be alone with his thoughts, not constantly interruped by someone grabbing for a tissue, someone else clearing their throat, a child rustling a sweetswrapper, a toddler crying.
There was still a slight red shimmer under his own fingernails and inbetween the skin folds on his hands. He literally wasn't able to clean his hands from the blood of his little precious mess.
This was his fault. He was selfish. Caging his hummingbird, as delecate as he was, cutting his wings and then he let just him fade as a pink. Unintended, but that wasn't narrowing his guilt. For all he cared, it was fueling it.
The man was staring into a cup of coffee. The taste of it was as blend as his emotions. The former Doc Monty wanted to throw that ugly stuff against the wall.
He wanted to smag his boy for doing this to him and than he wanted to wrap him in an embrace and never let go. His eyes felt wet.
Someone settle on the chair beside him. It was a young nurse. She mimicked his posture and leaned forward, placing her elbows on her knees.
"He's in good hands." Her voice was sincere.
Grey swallowed, he turned the cup between his long fingers. Suddenly, it felt too heavy, he was afraid, he would drop it at any moment.
And then, finally a part of his burdon unleashed.
"You know, he's got a recently discovered heartcondition above all. But his psychosis, he's got for almost all his life. His mother married again and his stepfather... was a cruel individual and..." Grey made a pause, his shoulders shrugged in an attempt to finish that sentence, but he didn't. The nurse, Angela her name tag said, just looked at him, giving him the time he needed.
"Over the last year, he was so lost, he was constantly lashing out, couldn't cope. He needed to be sedated so often. But I just can't bring myself to put him into an institution...
He's still my... don't tell him, I said it out loud. He's still my little hummingbird." A smile in his distant eyes. Then his tone was clogged all of a sudden. "He is my responsibility. He needs me and I must confess, just as bad, I need him too."
Grey's eyes turned glazy and he gave her an apologetic look and a sad smile from the side, placing the cup of digusting brown liquid on the floor between his feet.
"Hummingbird? That's a... nice nickname..." 'for a grown man!' she thought to herself confused. But Angela wouldn't show her confusion, keeping a professional, but yet sympathic face.
"Yeah, I call him my little hummingbird since he was a kid, despite he's a big boy now. He was always so alive. Scattering to and fro, never stayed still for a second. Then life caught up to him and I, ...I wasn't there to protect him. I will never forgive myself for that..." Grey brushed his own left hand over his face. "..., but I also will never forget, how full of life, free and happy he was then, he used to be. Fast as lightling, always chatting and moving, and still so delecate and fragil, just like a hummingbird. My hummingbird." His eyes had drifted away, lost in thought, his look fixated on an invisible spot at the floor.
"That's so sweet." The nurse couldn't help the funny feeling this man gave her. But his explanation, the changing expression around his eyes, the smile, when he talked about his kid being alive. She just knew his feelings were genuien. And she could actually feel it too, because she was a mother herself. Sometimes she was annoyed, but mostly more than happy for the sheer endless supply of energy her little girls threw at her day in and day out.
Grey was talking again, his voice low. He didn't move his eyes from that invisible spot. "Delecate and fragile he surely is, my little hummingbird. How could he..." Grey swallowed strained. His hands covered his face in a swift motion.
It was hard to compare that broken, sedated soul just being stitched together in surgery, ever being something more than a pale shell of the person he apparently used to be, Angela thought. She had seen his father bringing him in. A pale ghost covered in heaps of his own blood. She wanted to say something, show her understanding and sympathy, but she wouldn't know what. Just the thought of her girls getting broken by life as it happened, took her breath away.
"I'm sorry." Sheepishly Grey brushed some unshed tears away, lowered his hands again and gave her a heartly, but sad smile from the side by tilting his head a little.
"Sometimes I have hope. Then he can cope and is almost... almost normal. You know what I mean. His medication is really working, helping him. But then all starts anew. Trashing and swearing and...
His heartconditon has gotten worse and so his head was even more screwed, y'know. The worst part of it all." The man swallowed again, it seemed his face lost a bit of it color all of a sudden.
"He actualy thinks, I am some psycho who kidnapped him. Keeping him captive. He thinks, he's being drugged to comply. Which makes it so hard for him to understand, that he actually needs his medication. He thinks all his medical files are forged and we're not even related." The former doctor pulled his eyes from the floor again and looked back at the nurse.
"It's really hard sometimes... actually most of the time. But I just want him to be okay. To finally see the life, I'm trying to put out for him... But I guess, you can't always have what you want, right." His shoulders shrugged, as if his last statement was about a special treat that was out, when he wanted to buy it. There was some kind of resignation in the man's posture.
Angela was inwardly shocked by his whole story. She wasn't sure, if she had really surpressed that flinch, when it overtook her. "I'm so sorry." What should she say to something heartbreaking as a son thinking his own father to be a madman.
×
Sam startled awake. He had been roaming around, just under the rim of consciousness for days it felt, which had only been hours. Now he finally broke through the barrier. "Take it easy." A soothing hand on his arm. A small hand. It was a nurse, smiling at him. 'He was tired, oh was he tired.'
"Hey there. Nice to have you back, honey. Are you in any pain?" The young woman was still touching his arm with her soft fingertips.
His neck just very slightly shook his head in an unconscious answer without Sam's active participation. His head needed some time to put the pieces, thrown at him, together.
The presence of someone else than Grey was something new. Still his mind wasn't able to catch up.
"Whxc." Scratched out of his mouth silently. Next thing he knew, she held a cup with a straw towards his lips, he accepted thankfully. "Sounds scratchy." A genuien blink from her bright green eyes. "My name is Angela. I'm a nurse and you're at the hospital, honey."
Sam blinked confused himself. He was really exhausted, trying to move into a more comfortable position on the bed. His left arm felt heavy, like a bolder was attached to it, preventing him from lifting it even an inch. He was cold, but not in any real pain. Yet, his arm felt kind of tight and numb, like someone was trying to pull the skin away in different directions, until it would rip apart.
"Whaa-t happnd?" Sam supposed, he knew what happened, but his memory was probably playing him, though. Cause, he couldn't be in a hospital, but it defentily looked like one. The nurse had a real name tag, he couldn't read, if it actually said Angela, but it looked genuien for all he knew. 'Wasn't he supposed to be dead?'
Her sad smile was melting the walls of the drugged induced stupor, she was nervous and changed the subject. "The doctor will have a look at you real soon, he can explain, honey. Till then, someone's here to see you, if you're up to it?"
'Who? would be? No one knew he was here. Where ever here was? No one knew, he was in the fangs of a maniac, for, for godsake he didn't even knew how long.' Sam wanted to tell her. He wanted to spill it all, but he was just too tired. Maybe, it all was but a dream, a nightmere to be precise. Maybe, he never left work, because he was pinned under a bolder or that cart never had missed him?* His head was foggy, as so often in the (recent?) past? "Who?" slipped over his heavy tongue.
"Your Dad." Her smile burned itself inside his soul. 'He... he had no Dad. Never had, never would... so who...?"
Their eyes locked, when Grey stepped into the room. Panic flared up. Sam's weak body jolted. The static beating in the background, he hadn't even really noticed before, because it had been lolling him into a soothing fog of warmth, rose to a hectic cacophony of unbearable noises.
"No no no no no. That's not. No." Sam's head shook frantically. He tried to get away, his left arm wouldn't cooperate. He ripped up his right from the bedding, but it was stopped forcefully. Shocked he stared at a thick leather cuff, binding it to the bedframe. A cuff, that almost looked like the one's Grey used to chain him to floor and ceiling. Uncomprehending his wide eyes looked up again, never understanding hospital policy and the more harming intention of preventing him from repeating the course of action, that had let him here.
"Wha...? why?" Pure and utter panic took a hold of him. He was struggling like a maniac, despite his blood loss and weakness. 'All of this should be over. All of this should have never been real at al.' The strength to fight, only fueled by adrenaline resulting from his panic attack was draining him too fast.
Still, his heart just acted out completely, only short frantic gasped remained of his so vitally needed attempt to breathe in. "No no no. You can't... believe... a thing... he says. Please. That's...not...NOT my Dad. That's not..."
A heavy tingling sensation appeared out of nowhere and jumped at Sam like a landslide, just pulling him with. A bunch of people surrounded his bed all of a sudden, different voices, instruments, hands on him, while an invisible force tried to lure him into a warm blanket of darkness. It was all too much in his fragile state. The hammering pain in his chest kind of ebbed away and Sam willingly surrendered to oblivion.
The commotion faded away, like a fog disolving, people cleared the room after some time. The nice nurse gave Grey an apologetic and very sad look. Her lips forming a silent 'I'm sorry.' Afterwards her mournful eyes went to the floor. Her hand brushed over Grey's shoulder short but gently, than she left.
Sam was drugged out of his mind, his misery and consciousness again. A soothing hand in his hair, he couldn't feel. "Sssch. I got you, my little hummingbird. We'll get through this."
Days passed. And attending nurses, as well as the responsable doctor all worried about Sam's mental state, beside the actual certainty, that he was in desperate need of a pacemaker.
But he apparently couldn't comprehend and he wouldn't really step out of the hazy, disoriented and incoherent space, in which his mind seemed to be imprisoned.
The times, he was coming close to reality were hard on everyone. Between unconciouness, sleep and nightmeres, he tried to convince them, that he was actually a captive by the man, who was only imposing as his father.
It was highly unsettling, but every other reassuring look at his records confirmed, that unfortunately the his head really wasn't screwed on right. A sobbed and hardly audible statement, that kind of sounded like “I thought I was getting better.” from his part in a semi-conscious state only backed up the cruel reality. Had anyone listen closly, it had sounded more, like a desperate wish for 'I thought, IT was getting better'.
And yet, nurse Angela couldn't shake this ichty feeling 'his Dad' gave her. Or seeing the fear in this young man's eyes, whenever he was alert enough, to have some part in their reality.
×
The nurse was anxious. She kept the chart tight to her chest, not for anyone to see. This was really bad. She had paged Dr. Warron, but he was kept by another patient for now.
When he finally made his way down the corridor towards the nursing station seversl minutes later, she practically jumped out of her chair and all but flew over to him. Angela grabbed his arm and pulled him into the nearest storage room. "Angy, what do you..." "DOCTOR!" She forcefully interrupted him. "I believe, the young man is right and really being held hostage by the man calling himself his father." She was excited and nervous, but Warron wanted to block every attempt. "Angy, we've been through this. Your gut telling you, you don't like his old man, is not a clinical expertise for a mental case."
"Something doesn't add up, doctor. The 'kid' is here about a week now and his toxscreen is through the roof. Look at this. All these substances shouldn't be in his blood. Actually these combinations shouldn't be in anyone's blood. When he came in, okay, but neither of us had adminstered these drugs, look." She practically shoved the chart into his face.
It was something the the yoing man had said to her, she just couldn't dodge. It was running circles in her mind. He had been almost out of it again, but his pale cuffed hand had drilled itself into her coat and he had whispered into her ear, on one of those few moments, 'his Dad' wasn't nearby for once. "Please, compare our bloodtyps. He's lying. We can't be related. Pleas..." There were tears welding up in his eyes, but they were interrupted by that man entering again, letting waves of uncertanty flare up around Angela.
Dr. Warron studied the lap results, his expression darkened. "There's also something about their bloodtyps the kid said to me." Angela added. The doctor looked at her. His demeanor had changed, professionalsm and couriosity clearly shown in his face now, erasing the doubt.
"They wouldn't match. The kid's got 0-. But I couldn't get any information from "the father" (she made quotation marks in the air) "without raising any suspensions." An understanding nod was Warrons answer.
"I want someone with him at all times from now on. He's not to he left alone with that man anymore, who is apparently drugging him up under our noses. Call the authorities and I will have to make some calls regarding his medical records, his pretended father so openly provided. Dammit." His big hand squeezed her shoulder. "Good job, Angela. Thank you for being so stubborn."
They left the storage room and approached there taskes with brisked steps. Angela got hold of a collegue and was just about to explain, that said patient needed to be put under constant surveillance, when another nurse hectically made her way towards them. Her face was flushed, she was really upset. "He's gone."
Without any further explanation, Angela knew who was meant. She left her colleges standing and practically ran to the room, the 'suicidal boy' was supposed to be in, under the watchful eyes of his apparent father.
The room was empty, the bedding rumpled and a lonely cuff was chained to the frame of the bed, the other leatherstrap opened.
×
About 10 miles outside the city a tall man was steering his car towards the sunset. He was humming to himself. His big hand was bent behind the passagerseat. Long fingers ruffled through the young man's untamed hair. He was unconscious, laying on the backseat, his feet behind the driver, a thick white bandage around his left forarm sticking out under a blanket. The man behind the steering wheel took a quick last look to the back.
"No worries my little hummingbird. I'll find us a new home. Just you and me."
His hand slowly pulled away, his attention back to the road. He was humming again.
The End...?
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