DEAR BUTTERFLIES [ COMPLETED ]

12

Tw* mentions of blood and other injuries / medical related stuff

Possible The Song of Achilles spoilers

MYLES' POV

Monday

II've been sitting here, staring at the empty walls, the plain boring creamy walls and white tiles. It was early, it was 9:30 in the morning. There were tubes that were connected to my body, perks of delayed blood work reports. Upon my arrival I was hooked onto them, collecting blood for tests, the sound of the machines being attached to my body, medication being injected for vitals and scans. A cycle I was extremely familiar with.

The faint sound of voices echoed in the long open waiting area outside, there were people, family members waiting to meet their loved one or waiting for results or an appointment, tense faces who were desperately waiting for some hope. The kind of hope that fills your body, that consumes all the hurt that you carry, that one statement that could kill all the voices in your head. 

I'm not going to let you die. 

Hope and promises, the world revolves around them, a force comfortingly enveloping and equally blinding. It has a rush to it, it's either a cane for the crippled or a wrecking ball for the distressed. 

I'm not going to let you wake up alone to the pain.

The words were echoing in my head, making a room in the dirtiest and unhinged corners and lighting them up like fireflies a dark gloomy forest, making a home in hell, in a decaying and dying place, running emotions that were supposed to be locked down in the coldest and unreachable places of my heart. 

I'm here. 

But worst of all, making me wonder about the potential possibility of me not dying, of me being able to live again without pain and agony, with no radiation and injections, a life that wasn't tragic. Making me hope for always and forever, like the one they show in the movies and fairytales, something that would consume you in the most positive way. 

Well we can't always have what we want, hasn't history taught us enough? Love and hope kill, Achilles could not be a hero who was happy, he lost his hope with death and the pieces of his love that went extinct with it, Romeo and Juliet died and it's all in the name of hope, for hope is the great force that unites and binds but savours on the force of tears and life, I can't give into it again, but her words make it hard for me to breathe without binding onto it. They make me want to tear my hair and yell in despair, let out a cry for help, hoping and hopelessly praying someone would listen, that someone would hold onto my hand like a rescue team helping people off of a sinking ship.