𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 || 𝐉.𝐉𝐊 ✓

⊘ • ❺❶ • ⊘

𓆩・༺ ꔫ ༻・𓆪

My brain pounds ruthlessly. I hold my head when my face twists into discomfort. I gently sit up and let out a groan.

As my vision comes together, I see a room with colorless walls dipped with permanent white ink. It almost shines when the sole light in the room hits its reflective surface.

There's pain shooting down my body—a sickness I can't control. Before I have time to react, I'm leaning over toward the floor where I vomit up everything in my stomach.

I continuously gag on nothing until exhaustion takes over, and I roll weakly back onto the small bed.

I stare at the ceiling, not thinking of anything as my eyes roll back on their own.

𓆩・༺ ꔫ ༻・𓆪

A gentle slap comes to my cheek, and I see three men standing in the room. One has a mop, the other rests against the wall with a look of disgust on his features, and the last guy is looking at me.

"You need a bath," the one says in front of me, pulling back the blanket and scooping my body up. I can't move my body. It's as if I'm paralyzed for the moment.

Before I know it, he's bringing me into a small room with a bathtub. I close my eyes for a few seconds and then warm water surrounds me. Gently opening my eyes, the man is standing up and folding clothes.

When I look down, I see myself naked, and a part of me tries to hide myself. With what little strength I have, I try grabbing the shower curtain to hide behind.

"There's no need in any of that. I'm trying to help," he says as if tired.

The next time I open my eyes, he's putting a shirt on me and buttoning it up. Next, he takes a towel and dries my hair. With my eyes, shutting again, I wake up from the sound of his voice.

"Give me your arm and don't jerk this time," his words don't stay in my mind long. I recognize that I'm back in bed as before, but the thought drifts like everything else. He wipes down my arm and sticks a needle through my skin. "Don't try to pull it out this time either."

My head moves up, following the needle and the line that connects it to a clear bag. I watch the fluid flow from the bag and enter my body.

"This will help you sleep," the same man says. My eyes lower to him, lagging in their actions, and then I shift my attention to my arm where I see all kinds of bruises close to the needle.

I try to move my hand to grab the man before he stands up, but my movements are too delayed, and my eyelids are shutting on their own.

𓆩・༺ ꔫ ༻・𓆪

There's a sudden weight placed next to me. A dip in the mattress makes the spring pop, causing my eyes to open. This time, the world is blurry, and my hearing is lost.

Someone is looking at me, and I feel a hand rubbing my arm, but I can't tell which arm. My body refuses to work right, and I only hear the sound of a faraway voice.

With caution, I move my right hand, trying to feel for the needle in my skin. Once it barely touches the needle in my left arm, I'm stopped.