Alright, this is the first chapter (more like part of it) that I've decided to upload. It's short, I know, but I just wanted to upload this to see what you think. I've been wondering. :)
So, yeah, I hope you enjoy this!
Walking through that bustling building had never really seemed real in his eyes. While he was physically aware of the many people that passed him by, he wasn't mentally capable of registering their faces the way they were supposed to be. It was like stepping inside a bubble, which changed perception of time and space. Once you passed the boundary, a single second felt like hours on end, while, at the same time, leaving the impression of having lasted no longer than a fraction of what it was. The sterile walls would start to wobble and turn into something that came close to an act straight out of an illusionist's performance. Colorful blurs, which the boy assumed originated from the civilians clothing, started to dance in front of his eyes, muddling his sight, while the faces themselves turned into some weird form of abstract art, resembling Picasso by some lengths. A few of them gave him strange looks, although that was a given when nose, mouth and eyes were completely out of place and order, but it still irked him. Maybe it was because of the obvious frown on his face? Doubtful, considering the amount of people in this building sporting far worse facial expression than the one he was so gracefully wearing. Most likely the stares could be traced back to the fact that he was basically plowing through the masses, shoving and elbowing everything in his way in order to avoid suffocation.
Finally, he managed to slip past the reception near the entrance and got on one of the elevators, ascending to the second floor. He let out an agitated sigh, when he stepped out of the metal doors. While he took steady steps, he focused on the image of a door in his mind. 317. That's what the hospital called it. Had he been one tasked with giving it a name, he'd have designated it as 'melancholy'.
Completely absorbed in his thoughts, he bumped into one of the chairs on the side of the hallway that consisted of stacked poker cards, and muttered a soft apology to the woman sitting on it. Her huge nose would have gouged his eye out, had it been real, and the perfectly circular eyes gave him a heated glare, which dissipated only, because she couldn't be taken seriously in the state she was in. "Watch where you're going," she hissed. Even though the voice was filled with venom, he couldn't help but chuckle as soon as he'd gotten out her hearing range, since her mouth was nothing more than a dot on her right cheek and the sound had been as high pitched as fingernails on a chalkboard.
For a few seconds he contemplated whether or not he was by all accounts still sane, because, after all, he was seeing some pretty disturbing things. He shrugged it off and blamed it on the nervousness that had been steadily building up in his stomachs ever since he'd entered the hospital.
He efficiently evaded a woman clad in a white cloak, before turning a corner to his right and slowing down. There, only a few feet away was the place that always turned his legs into a wobbly mess. Cautiously, he advanced, as if testing the tiled floor. He saw rippling beneath the soles of his black boots and it reminded him of a small pebble breaking the surface of a calm lake emanating the soft waves.
He shifted his gaze to the door, realizing that it really had been nearly a month since he'd last stood in front of it. He used to visit frequently, about twice a week, but lately, his home situation had restricted his comings and goings. He looked up at the tag to the left, which would have resembled every other one in the building had it not been labeled with the patients name. Katharine Mercer. He stared at the two words, that should have been nothing more than that; a construction of letters, stuck together in a specific order. It seemed like, out of everything, this right here should have been the thing that danced, changed and turned into some creature, but the bold symbols remained the same. He clenched his teeth harshly and let out a long breath, grabbing the door, more determined than before.
He half expected to hear the heartmonitor producing an obnoxious monotonous noise, instead of the steady beeping sound that echoed off the walls. Relief flooded his entire being, when he settled on a chair beside the white sheets and the frail body buried within them. Nothing was moving anymore, unlike before, except for the steady rising and falling chest of the girl. His anxiety had settled down and so had his wild imagination. "Hey, sis." He mumbled, reaching for the girls hand and softly applying pressure in greeting. A sad smile played around his lips, when he took in her appearance. The long black hair was outspread on the bed, entangled with the various tubes sending oxygen and other vital liquids into her body. Even through the closed eyelids, the boy could feel the vibrant blue eyes, as if they were staring at him, despite her being in a coma. The high cheekbones that used to make her seem like more of a grown up than she was, poked through her skin. He couldn't fathom what he would be willing to give, to just see that cheerful smile again, the one that displayed her dimples so clearly. It had been way too long, almost two years now since he'd last seen it, and he knew what the hopeful doctors had said to be lies. 'She'll be fine.' Even from just looking at their faces, he could see the uncertainty they really felt, and it made hot rage swell in his chest. He hated that he was still treated like a child, who wouldn't be able to handle the truth and it was therefore kept locked away, far out of his reach.
He started circling her flesh with his thumb, noticing the greenish hue that had settled on every inch of her skin, and gave the illusion that she was much older than the twenty years she'd lived.
So that's the first part.
Please let me know what you think :)
-Ellie aka. DTSD