WAKE UP

17

By the time I woke up again, the sun was setting and the darkness was leaking through the window of the med wing.

I slowly sat up, wincing at my sore muscles and scrubbed at my eyes, trying to remember the full story of what happened before I fell asleep.

I had woken up, completely lost control and I cried, and Beastboy witnessed everything, he saw every bit of it.

I clenched my fists, heat of embarrassment turning my cheeks a soft pink color.

I looked over, and Beastboy was still sitting in the chair next to the bed.

"Are you... feeling better?" he asked carefully.

I actually laughed, looking down at the bedsheets.

I had just jumped off of the roof trying to kill myself, only to wake up and find out I was alive and all I want is to be dead, I completely lost my shit in front of him, and yet he had the nerve to ask if I felt any better.

He widened his eyes at my laughter, and then his eyes darted towards the bowl sitting on the nightstand.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"No." I wondered if I just didn't eat anything at all, I would die of starvation soon. The thought kind of scared me, it would be more painful than my first attempt, but it would at least give me my goal.

"Eat it anyways," he shoved it closer to me. "Please."

I sighed, realizing there wasn't a way out of this.

I picked up the bowl, and it seemed to be some sort of soup.

I put it to my lips, and I took a sip.

It was still warm, but I didn't taste it.

My taste buds were numb like my mind.

There was silence for a while, the only thing filling the air was the sounds of me slurping the broth.

"So," he began. "Can I ask you something?"

"I guess." I said, taking another sip of broth.

"How do you feel about yourself?"

I laughed yet again, tucking a strain of hair behind my ear.

"Do I really have to answer that?" I said coldly.

"I mean," he took a second to word the question differently. "When you hear your name, what's the first thing you think about?"

"Are you my therapist now?" I took a final sip of the warm broth, before sitting it on the nightstand.

"I never said that I was going to be your therapist."

"Well, you sure are acting like it." I said, pulling the sheets closer to my shoulders.

"How is asking a question related to me being a therapist?" he asked. "Just answer. Please."

I rolled my eyes, ignoring him completely.

I played with my hands under the bedsheets, hoping that he would just leave the room.

That he would leave me alone.

There was once again a very awkward silence before he started to talk.

"Why do you feel like a freak?" he asked suddenly.

I raised my eyebrows at him.

"What?"

"You heard me," he said. "Why do you feel like a freak?"