The Broken One

afearfulmonster

Surgery after surgery had taken its toll and Simon had spent quite some time doing nothing more than sleeping. Sleeping, eating, and occasionally writing or reading. Mostly apathetic of his surroundings from the influence of heavy narcotics, it was very difficult for anyone to really want to come stay by his side in the hospital.  Anyone without a guilty conscious weighing them down, that is.  Backed into a lonely room at the end of the hallway, Simon had spent most of the day writing in a journal that had been left for him. He wasn’t sure by whom exactly, only that it was like a well, for lack of a better term, a diary. A diary that he could relinquish the anger and pain he was feeling with a pen, stabbing down into its thin pages. It was about fourteen hundred in the afternoon and while other patients could be just faintly heard talking to their loved ones, Simon was very certain no one would be coming to say their hellos. So, today he had set up to try and make it from the bed to the wheelchair across the room. Maybe he could slip out unnoticed and go down to the cafeteria. Perhaps sneak a pudding cup or something. Anything to free himself from the ball and chain of his hospital bed and its crushing solitude. If he went downstairs to the cafeteria, at least someone down there might take pity on him and speak more than a few force-fed lines to him. Pulling back the sheets, he looked away from the lower half  as he tossed the sheets down towards the foot of the bed. He froze as a knock sounded at his door. Heida’s shift ended in two hours and she wasn’t supposed to be checking in on him right now. Fuck, the whole plan was ruined. Simon hurried to pull his blankets back up from the foot of the bed as the door creaked open. 

     Next day came, and David got up at a decent time, showering and changing in a clean set of jeans and shirt, slipping on his black hoodie before grabbing his shoes. It was like any other day, except today he planned to visit Simon. He just couldn’t bare the guilt that was pooling and boiling in the pit of his stomach, making him unable to eat or even just breathe easy. Before David set out, he grabs his butterfly knife - something that wouldn’t easily be accept at the hospital but he needed it - and tucks it away into his pocket. 

     Though, he wouldn’t go to the hospital empty handed either, it would look bad. So David grabs one of his older blankets, a blank journal book, some new pens, and a spare hoodie, tucking it all into a simple grey backpack before slinging it over his shoulder and heading out.

     Instead of driving, David takes the train, a service he can trust and depend on since he had been so nervous to drive again, especially still since he had been unable to kick the pills.

     They still come, everyday. Delivered to his box without a sender. Tempting. Haunting.

     Today though, David manages to not take any at all, but he was soon starting to regret it since he was becoming easily jumpy and spooked. Letting out a low groan, the older male pushes his semi gloved hands over his face, rubbing the bridge of his nose a bit before tracing his fingers over the scar on his cheek. The sound of the bell of the train broke him from his forced trance, letting him know they have arrived at the hospital. 

     Getting up and leaving the small platform station, the Swedish male makes his way over to the hospital, slowly stepping inside and nodding his head at people who greeted him. Hospitals were still a major fear of David’s, still fearing he would relapse, and... Shaking his head he tried not to think about it, instead, leans on the counter and quietly speaks to the nurse in a faux calm voice.

     “Hey, I’m here to see Simon Henriksson. What room is he in?” 

     After getting his answer from the receptionist the older Swede walks past her desk, looking at the map on the wall before finally figuring out how to get to Simon’s room. It wasn’t that difficult, but it was pretty far from the entrance, he wondered why. Taking in a deep breath, and slowly exhaling it, he knocks on the door, waiting for a response before slowly pushing it open. 

It was starting to hurt his eyes, and he threw up a dirtied hand to protect them from the glare, his free hand already hanging down at his side where he kept a glock in the waistband of his jeans. Whoever that was, they were certainly taking their time, which indicated intentions other than what a monster would do, say… Running up wildly at him screaming and flailing a weapon, but you can never be too careful right?

It was only the voice questioning his name that stopped him from pulling a gun on the stranger. “What?” He couldn’t help but blurt out the question, less of a response to his name, more so a vocalization of his confusion. Who the hell was out here that knew who he was?

There was really only about three people left that could even remotely be all the fuck out here, and two of them were ‘dead’ in this world. So…

Oh. Shit…

"… David?"

     "Simon, I... I didn't expect to see you out here," he stated calmly, lowering the flashlight a bit so it was out of the younger male's eyes, but still lighting up the floor and the train a bit so they could see. David carefully shifted his shoulder, fixing the strap of Simon's bag to sit on it properly before tucking the gun back into the back of his jeans. 

     "It's so good to see you..."

     And that was an honest truth. Despite the guilt that still ached in his stomach and tore him from the inside out, it was nice to not be alone anymore.

                    'But David, you're never alone. Never. N e v e r.'

     Shaking his head a bit and bringing his gloved hands up, he held his temples for a moment, taking in a sharp breath before calmly breathing and letting out a small sigh. Damn, he needed his medication, but he was currently out. 

Reaching out in the darkness, he grabbed at the handle of the door, and gave it an experimental tug. Rusted shut. Figures.

Taking a step back, the Swede glanced at the shattered windows lining the sides of the train. There were still sharp pieces sticking out from where the window panes used to sit, but it wasn’t that bad, and could be avoided if he was careful enough.

Looking for a decent spot to try climbing in wasn’t hard, and after giving himself a running start, he jumped up and grabbed at the window ledge. Simon winced as a piece of glass bit through his glove and into the palm of his hand, but he pulled himself up regardless, tumbling head-first into one of the torn-up leather seats that lined the interior of the cart.

Once again, you’re on the flat of your back like some pathetic piece of shit. Get up.

Sorry.

     Finally when David was just a few feet away, he could see the other's dirty face, he must have fallen in the mud. And... The blood on his hands. Was he real? "Simon?" David inquired softly, almost as if he were unsure if he was speaking to the boy or just thin air, "Is that really you?"

     It almost seemed too good to be true. So much guilt sat and festered inside David's stomach when he thought about Simon, all the pain he had caused him and ruined his life. He obviously could never be forgiven for what he did, but he was under a psychosis. The pills drove him made, and so did Addiction.

               'Do not speak to him, David. He hates you. He loathes you until the                day you die and beyond that as well. You deserve to be alone and                drown in the darkness.'

        Chaste ◌◌◌◌●◌◌◌◌◌◌ Lustful     Energetic ◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌◌◌ Lazy     Forgiving ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌ Vengeful    Generous ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌◌ Selfish        Honest ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌ Deceitful             Just ◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌◌◌◌ Arbitrary       Merciful ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌◌ Cruel        Modest ◌◌◌◌●◌◌◌◌◌◌ Proud           Pious ◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌◌◌ Worldly       Prudent ◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌◌◌ Reckless  Temperate ◌●◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌ Indulgent      Trusting ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌ Suspicious     Valorous ◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌◌◌◌ Cowardly

Rubbing his head with a groan, Simon sat up from his position on his back, splayed out in the pile of loosened earth and pebbles that had cascaded down after him when he lost his footing. His mouth tasted like dirt, and he could be damn sure that the wetness on his hands as he pulled them away from his head wasn’t just mud.

Seriously, fuck that cliff… If it wasn’t for the fact that he missed the one sense of security he had, he wouldn’t be back in this damn forest at all and stayed in his City where he actually knew where the fuck he was going. …Most of the time, anyways.

But out here under the dark, dense canopy of dying leaves and dying trees, everything looked the same. What few lanterns littered the place did nothing to make it any easier, and it was only a goddamn miracle that he found the railroad tracks. Well, more or less tripped on the and ranted out a series of cusses as he bruised his knees. But goddammit, he found it. And by some stroke of luck, it seemed the cliff that the train had fallen into wasn’t as steep as he thought. Sliding down it would have been easy, right?

Well it fucking wasn’t, and here he was spitting out dirt and most likely suffering from a bleeding cut on his head somewhere. Ain’t that fantastic.

Clothes smeared with mud, Simon wobbled to his feet, and glanced around him. The trainwreck was still here, rusting away in the undergrowth, looking foreboding as ever. But his bag had to still be in there, right?

     Reaching the bottom he stumbled a bit, causing him to drop his flashlight for a moment. "Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck--" he muttered trying to pat the ground to find it. Finally grabbing it, he fixed the top and turned it back on, scanning the area. It was quiet, save for the natural sounds of the forest, but it really put the older Swede on edge.

          He should go home.

     David should turn right back around and go back to the comfort of his apartment.

     But instead he pushed forward, stepping carefully over the broken glass and into the wreckage of the train. It was so dark, and cold, it gave chills that ran up his spine, and his flashlight could only light so much. The further he walked into this mess of a place, the more the burgundy haired male became to worry and fear for what would happen.

     'Why am I here anyway? Go back... I should just go back,' he thought to himself, swallowing lightly as he walked past the countless of torn seats and broken windows, but then something out of the corner of his eyes made him pause. That looked so familiar...

     Kneeling down he spotted a light brown bag, with buttons and other stuff on it. Where had he seen this before. Grabbing onto the strap he pulled it out from under the seat, getting a better look. Maybe the contents inside would get him a better idea. David moved to hold the flashlight between his teeth, abling him to use both hands now. Syringes? A knife? And... a phone. He knew this phone. This was Simon's bag. That made sense now, but...

     Shaking his head and stuffing his hands into his pocket, David gently thumbed the box of cigarettes and his pocket knife, muttering a bit to himself before he rounded the corner, needing to head to the corner store. But as soon as he did, a sharp huff left him before he stumbled backwards and held his stomach, looking up to see what it was he had collided with.