Was this death? Was I about to wake up and see my own personal hell? The room in which I was laid seemed to burn up, causing me to sweat profusely. A needle of pain was injected into the bottom of my back, sending sparks of agony zoom through every single cell I possessed. Did I dare to open my eyes? Who would be in front of me? What would be in front of me? I could hear someone, breathing heavily and turning the pages of a book. Their presence was warm, which slightly encouraged me to open my eyes. Eventually, when I did, all I could see were the pearl walls of the ward. The room's colour scheme was pink and white, with the same sparkling floors as the clinic. My eyes scanned the surroundings. Beside me stood several beds, some empty and some not so much. A woman, who had her curtain pulled slightly, had what seemed like the population of Poland by her bed side. There were many relatives pandering to her every wish, causing a warm feeling to burrow at the bottom of my gut. Apart from the happy feeling, a river of agony also lined my stomach. Bringing me back to reality, the pain got more and more intense. Trying to distract myself, my eyes caught with a young girl, probably younger than me, cuddled up in another bed. Her pink curtains were open, exposing her to the world. Nobody had came to visit her. Not a single soul. Her hair was a deep red bird's nest that ran down her cheeks and met at her shoulders. Two black rings accompanied her glimmering green eyes, revealing more about her story. She was clearly weak. Her arms resembled twigs; her legs could hardly hold her up. Cuts and bruises kissed her knuckles -- you could tell they were fresh. Since I was staring at her for so long, the girl looked up from her dainty body. A closed smile stretched across my face, in an attempt to show affection towards her without words. Revealing her adorable dimples, she smiled back. Suddenly, the warm feeling in my stomach returned. Although I still felt abdominal pain, the sight of someone smiling through saddened eyes created an emotion that overrode all -- including pain.
That was the weird thing about emotions. They were all in competition with each other. Every single one of them had a motive and wanted their idea to float to your brain. They wanted to turn you into their muse, painting either a smile or a grimace onto your face. Happiness? Happiness wanted to lift me from my bed, gently place me onto the lonely girl's bed and make me talk to her. On the other hand, anxiety created a barrier. It wanted to sneak into my brain and make a catastrophic to-do list, causing my limbs to freeze and my teeth to chatter. Sadness? Sadness wanted to make my cry. Cry, and cry, and cry. Until there was nothing left. In fact, it didn't want anything but to make me, and the people around me, as miserable as it could. It wanted to drag me into a melancholic grave, close the lid and lay me to rest. Sometimes fighting against it was useless. And that was okay. As long as I didn't get lost in the sadness, in the catacombs, it was okay to grovel at times.
"You're awake." The mysterious person finally ushered, resting a hand on mine.
Wincing from the pain, I turned to see Harvey, whom possessed sparkling eyes and a glowing smile. Mimicking his facial expression, I eventually spat out a reply. "Yeah, I am. How long was I out?"
"A few hours," He answered, his eyes floating to the side of his face as he thought. "4 at most."
"So I can't even go home yet?" I huffed, like a child.
"Doctor says about 2 more hours... You should get some more sleep." He tightened his hand's grip, tracing my skin with his thumb. "On the bright side though, I brought you a present."
"Man, I hope they're grapes." I giggled, as Harvey reached into his plastic bag.
A mix of excitement and gratitude were the first to paint my face, while he presented a plastic box of mixed grapes in front of me. Within a swift shift in expression, it was confusion's turn to control me. My eyebrows furrowed as I watched Harvey reach further into the bag and present a small, brown box. Untying the ribbon and lifting the top, his hands shook with second-hand excitement. Eventually, an object formed as the lid was gracefully slid from the box. It was a black rectangle, with gaps in the shape of circles. A white label separated these circles, which read "Eleanor, part 2" in scruffy handwriting. Gasping, I took the object from the packaging and held it in front of me.
YOU ARE READING
The Man on the Moon (The Man Duology)
Teen Fiction"If the man stayed on the sun for the entirety of his life and completely ignored the moon -- his happiness would soon burn out. If the man stayed on the moon and ignored the sun, his life would be dark and full of craters. However, if the man was t...
