After remembering to eat during the day, though, making simple ham-cheese-lettuce-mayo sandwiches to last me throughout the next day every night, I started seeing improvements in both my workouts and also less needing to argue my way into a 4.0 with college professors.
Though maybe that was because my semester with that one stubborn bastard was over.
Stress was always high, though, and though I had no time while the semester was in, when it was out and I waited for my next classes, I found myself gaining burning lines of red crisscrossing across my skin.
My eyes traced the line of red that trailed down my neck, deep but not deep enough, a heavy slant across my jugular and aiming for my carotid. I sighed as I thoroughly tied a scarf I’d gotten over the weekend around my neck. It was tied tight enough that it felt like a collar, the thin red wrapped twice around to hide the wound and twin tails trailing behind me, the fabric not moving at all.
If my scarf got caught on anything, I’d be hanged, but I didn’t quite care as I ran across icy rooftops, closer to dying via gravity compared to via suffocation.
My exercise was just a bit too heavy, and I found myself capable of continuing my bench press as if it wasn’t. How disappointing.
When I first delivered papers in the morning, Davis looked at the scarf like it had personally affronted him. He didn’t say anything about it, though, and I quietly left.
He didn’t know what was underneath it, so that meant…
Davis hated scarves? This was something Shawn absolutely needed to know, as starting very recently we’d been recommending outfits to each other. I was even wearing new shoes he’d recommended. I texted him and got an almost immediate answer.
I didn’t respond, making a noise of amusement as I set two of my sandwiches in the fridge, eating my third as I went to the PC I used. I forgot to sign out, and I found myself in an old email where I was arguing with a professor over a grade.
I huffed, glancing at Charles, the only one in the office at the moment. Did he just get curious? Whatever.
Looking at the day, I felt almost shocked dumb. January, 2029. I’ve almost worked here for three entire years. Holy hell, that’s… that’s the longest I’ve worked for a place. Ever.
God damn.
Later that day, I wasn’t paying much attention as I delivered papers, and my shoes, doing the thing all new shoes did, caught on the polished floors. The squeak was loud as I went down, holding the papers to try and prevent them from flailing everywhere.
Crack.
A bang echoed out as my head slammed into the corner of the CEO’s desk. I watched, pained, as the corner bounced away, trailing blood after it. I hoped I wouldn’t have to pay for that.
Shifting, I set the papers down, trying to push myself up. My hand slipped on something warm and wet, though, and I slammed back into the ground, looking to the side.
The sight of crimson red pooling on the black floor made me hum. I shifted, seeing my hand covered in my own blood.
Dizziness overcame me, and I set my head down, cheek against the ground.
A weird feeling engulfed my head, and my thoughts shifted at the cold feeling my head was giving off.
Was my skull cracked? Was my brain exposed?
…
If I pushed my fingers into my brain and dragged it out, I wouldn’t survive.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
I watched, dazed, as my hand shifted, uncoordinated as it dragged toward me. A polished black shoe appeared, stepping on my knuckles.
“Don’t move, I’ve called an ambulance,” Davis said sharply.
My vision blurred once before violently snapping back in focus, my head slowly hurting. A chill spread throughout my fingers and toes.
Euphoria overcame me, then, a sudden peace resting on me.
Wasn’t that the main indicator of death? The mind poured chemicals into the brain once it was confident it would die.
The ambulance wouldn’t get here in time, since Davis only just spoke.
My chest shook with mirth, my face not shifting no matter how much I wanted to smile, “Oh, wow. I’m dead.”
I stared at the polished shoe in my vision. The feeling of it pressing into my hand faded, feeling only like pressure as my heartbeat gained my mind’s attention.
My world was spinning, but my vision was still. My heart was heavy and painful in my chest, beating slower and slower. My lungs ached and burned. I realized I wasn’t breathing, but the pain from not doing so faded almost before I noticed.
Static and darkness surrounded my vision, and I watched as the world grew darker and darker. I watched as the shoe preventing me from ensuring my death pulled back quickly.
Very quickly.
Did Davis have somewhere urgent to be?
Darkness consumed me, and I relaxed, the last of the oxygen in my lungs escaping.
“Shawn!”
It was nice th… Wait.
Why was I able to think? No. No! My anger and fear gave me the motivation to force me awake, and I jumped up, eyes wide as I stood.
A hospital.
No. No no no no no, I survived?!
No.
No…
I slumped back down, ignoring the nurses who came over as my arms bent, hands covering my face.
“I want to be released. Now,” I demanded, ears ringing as I looked up.
Maybe I’d still die? But no, no. It was only saline connected to me. My head was patched, and they weren’t giving me any blood. Any plasma. Actually, I think there was some sort of painkiller, too.
The nurses hesitated, talking to each other. My ears were shrieking at me, the tinnitus not allowing me to hear them.
“Sorry, could you repeat that?” I asked after my hearing calmed down.
“It’s recommended that you stay, at least for a few days.”
“No, it’s fine. Release me now. How long have I been here?”
“…” The nurses looked anxious, “About twelve hours.”
“So it’s about eight at night, huh?” I glanced at the window, before looking back at the nurses, “Cool. You already patched me up, I’m fine. Unless the doctor feels like prescribing anything except pain medicine, I’m fine.”
The sound of beeping made me dizzy as the nurses left, one staying to sit with me.
“Hello, heard you woke up violently,” A man commented plainly as he walked in, “Set every alarm off there was to set off and then demanded being released.”
“Yes,” I agreed, sitting cross-legged on the bed. They hadn’t removed my pants, but they removed my shirt.
“Well, I can only tell you how much of a bad idea this is, I can’t force you to stay.”
“Correct,” I agreed, “So, release papers?”
The doctor sighed heavily, “Yes, those. I’ll get you them, as well as a prescription for the pain.”
Dizziness swarmed me, and the nurses called a cab for me.
When I woke up the next day, I couldn’t recall what the hospital room looked like. I couldn’t recall what anyone I spoke to had, nor even recall getting into an already-paid-for taxi to get home.
I went to work in a daze, calling an Uber, since no cab services were available at the moment. The moment I tried running or exerting any sort of effort, I felt violently dizzy, and I staggered off the treadmill.
Wandering to the bathroom, I stared into the mirror for a long moment. Glassy eyes stared back at me, my head still wrapped in bandages. Bloodstained my skin and trailed down my neck, coating my collar and shoulder down to just under my chest.
Oh.
My button-up was covered in blood.
Going on my phone, I ordered a new one, having it delivered to me. Most of my time was spent waiting for it before I took the elevator down, meeting the man at the door.
Changing took a while, the black button-up was not as large as the white one. I staggered and stumbled out of the bathroom, my bloodied shirt now stuffed in my duffel bag and my skin as pale as it usually was, not caring how much sun it got.
A ruby red tie was wrapped around my neck because it was in the suggested of the shopping cart and I figured why not. I felt fancy as hell with the shiny crimson tie.
Maybe it would distract people from the bandages which I didn’t feel confident taking off just yet. The papers said to wait a few days, anyway.