Prying Your Head Off a Swivel

The second floor has several large rooms with patient beds and a few smaller rooms for specialized purposes. The beds may be appealing to someone looking for rest if they don’t mind the smell of the sheets. A supply room contains extra first aid kids, bandages, and empty syringes. Some drugs are still around, though all expired years ago, and the bulk of the more potent medication has been removed.
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Un-Persona*
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Joined: Wed Sep 05, 2018 5:53 am

Prying Your Head Off a Swivel

#1

Post by Un-Persona* »

((Rutherford "R.J." Roger Jr.: B032 -V5- Continued From Dyspnoea))

So the cookies weren't poisoned. Semi-disappointing. On one hand, he wasn't dead. On the other, he wasn't dead. He should be grateful, considering. It'd be pointless to die now after just killing a girl so he could live a bit more. Not that he would achieve anything more then wasting a bit more time on killemall island. So that made his life pointless as well. He figured it didn't matter which way anymore.

Still, those cookies did not like him very much. His stomach had the same vast, empty feeling he had...

...

What day was it? Couldn't have been more than 5 days. 3? 4? He couldn't tell anymore. He had slept at least one night. So more then two. 2-5 days, he had been on killemall.

Growling noises.

His stomach had the same vast, empty feeling it had 2-5 days ago. He had already ate, so feeding the beast was doing him no good. It seemed R.J. was in for another passing session. A hospital seemed like a safe resting post for now.

Resting, not hiding. That's what he told himself. He barely smelled anything as he lied down on one of the cots that had sheets. The hospital was dark. It was weird. Even when he had to spend a night at a hospital for whatever reason, there was always light somewhere. In his stationed room, in the hallways outside, in the bathroom no one could get up to use but always yearned for because the whole room smelled like forced piss. Somewhere.

But the darkness, the permanent shadow, it was nice. It was protecting him. And he slept.

---------

He awoke, groggy and sweaty. How the hell did it become so hot in here? He took off his jacket and tossed it into his bag, revealing his chest bandages. The feeling in his stomach...it was faint. He stood up on the cot, feet and legs barely dangling above the floor.

With a wipe of his nose and a sneering noise, R.J. grabbed the first aid kit. Opening it, he looked for something that might cool down his ears. They had become hotter then the rest of the body, though not as they had been earlier. That was good, at least.

Aspirin. He didn't know if aspirin would make his ears feel better, but it was the first medicine in the first aid kit that he could see clearly and was common enough for him to know. He swallowed two. That'd be enough right? This burning sensation in his ears, it was foreign. He didn't know how to handle it. Perhaps a few more. Four. Four was good. And water. Make him digest faster. After taking more aspirin and a sip of water, he stared at the bottle in his hands. He felt stupid. Water helped with burning.

The water trickled down his earlobes and darkened the curly and wavy ends of his hair.

"AaaaaaahmyGooooood...."

He let the water fall over his head and hair now. Did a cold shower ever feel nice. But it might have only temporarily helped. His ears felt better, but well, he could still feel them. He looked around the cabinets. Maybe something that could help his ears. Vitamins. Hello Kitty bandages. Something labeled Antioxidants. Bunch of other pills and medicinal stuff.

He took a lot of the pills from the shelf. Almost everything, except the stuff labeled laxatives and depositories or those that looked similar. He looked at the bottles of pills. Most of the them were bare. The Antioxidants bottle had two by itself. That was double for a lot of the bottles. It might be dangerous to take a lot of these pills, a lot of them in unlabeled bottles and unknown affects within them.

But it was medicine.

Just to make everything go away for a little while. He knew he wasn't suppose to feel good but it's not like he was hurting anybody, with only the chance of putting himself in danger.

And that was okay.

Not like it mattered.

He consumed a number of pills. Took some more aspirin. Drank a bit more water. Doused himself with what was left over. His hair was soaked and now basically black in color. Vacantly, he plopped himself on back to the cot and curled up.

So now, it was just R.J. and everything separate. And he felt healed.

((Rutherford "R.J." Roger Jr.: B032 -V5- Continued In Nowwhere To Go))
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