How am I gonna be an optimist about this
Outside, campers were laughing, playing. Birds were chirping, pegasi were whinnying in the distance. To Louis, it could might as well have been a completely different world. One he didn’t belong to. The empty hospital wing was like a bunker, set into another dimension. He might as well be lying on the dirty hard ground he’d been lying on about 60-something hours prior. None of the softness of the mattress, blankets or pillows were getting through to him. His mind was locked in a strange setting of denial, rage and sadness. He didn’t seem able to pick a feature, didn’t know whether he wanted to cry or punch something. It was a very strange experience, because he wasn’t used to having these feelings on the regular. That realization didn’t help him any either, and made him feel even more depressed.
It was incredibly surreal and weird. His brain told him that his leg was still there. He could feel it. It hurt. But one glance, one pat, told him that is wasn’t. He tried not to think about that, preferred the idea that if it hurt, it was really still there and this was really all just a horrible nightmare that he’d wake up from any minute now. Any minute now.
Louis turned on his side. Maybe the aching would stop if he did. Undergoing the absence of leg weight was strange. He was facing his nightstand now, looking away from the door. A large bouquet of flowers perched on it. Thyme had brought them for him, having gotten to camp as soon as she could with the portal watch she had. She’d gone back some time ago to go inform his mother about his accident. It was something Louis both dreaded and looked forward to. His mom would be so saddened, but at the same time he longed for the comfort of her presence. Amongst the flowers were other things: muffins, cookies, a book, his mythomagic card set that Juli had brought in. Nothing about that seemed appealing right now, or possessed the ability to put him in a good mood.
Louis turned away from the items and ended up on his back again. He stared up at the ceiling, eyes non-seeing.
