When I regained consciousness a blinding overhead light immediately shone in my eyes, causing me to close them once again and let out a low whimper.
The pain from the electrocutions still radiated across my body, but they felt numb and more like a dull ache. When my eyes finally adjusted to the nurse offices lights, I opened my eyes and scanned my surroundings, my heart pounding in my chest.
The medical wing was somewhat comfortable looking. My bed was shielded behind light blue linen curtains, and I had thick blankets draped over my body.
In the background, I heard the faint yet obvious hum of the machines, a silent yet mechanical lullaby to lull me back into a state of partial-relaxation.
I could smell the disinfectant in the office as if it were a plague—invisible yet always there.
Suddenly the curtain was drawn back, and I clenched my fists white in anticipation, hoping it wasn't any form of danger. A few moments later a nurse entered my booth and smiled at me.
"You're awake, that's good." She was carrying a tray with a small amount of food on it, just what the school cafeteria was serving that day.
I could slightly recall the interaction I had with the bullies, how they had tortured me until I was knocked out cold. Now my body was suffering the after effects.
"By the way I patched up your wound." The nurse said, gesturing with her pointer finger towards my cheek. I had now just realized that I had a bandage on my cheek, sealing up a wound that had been pounding within.
"How'd I get that?" I asked, my voice slightly hoarse.
At that moment the nurse approached my bed and sat down beside me, resting a hand on the thick blankets with a solemn expression.
She was silent for a few seconds before replying. "On your way down you cut yourself against the lockers edge...or so we think."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, we suspect maybe your tormentors did it to truly knock you out."
"Oh..." I raised my right hand, running it along the bandage on my cheek, feeling the soft fabric of the bandage across my face.
"Well, do you think you can walk, or do you think you'll need more time to recover?" The nurse asked, a flicker of empathy crossing her expression.
"Well..." I quickly assessed my condition.
At the moment I had just suffered pain from electrocuting and a minor concussion. My head was hurting slightly and my legs felt slightly numb.
If I were to keep going through the school day what if my bullies found me and beat me harder? On the other hand, I've suffered injuries before and I was able to walk them off.
"I thinkI can handle it." I looked up at the nurse, a small smile forming on my face.
"That's good to hear, but first..." she reached back, bringing the tray of food in my direction. The plate had some grilled chicken on it, with a side of peas and a cup of noodles.
I also had a glass of water to drink. "You need to eat, sweetie. You'll need your energy."
"Right...right." I took the plate and paused for a beat. I had always felt somewhat uncomfortable eating around strangers.
During the regular lunch periods I would take my food to either the back of the cafeteria or leave the room and go to a room I always knew was open for either a study hall or the teacher didn't care if someone entered.
My gaze flickered up to the nurse as I hesitantly spoke up. "Would you mind...leaving please?"
"Absolutely, press that button if you need anything and I'll be right there." Beside my bed was a small red button that flickered with light, it made a small and constant beeping sound.
With a sigh I raised my fork and knife, cutting into my chicken like a gourmet chef. Back at home my father and mother had taught me proper culinary skills and how to "eat like a gentleman."
It was ironic how my father didn't really care how he ate, but at least he knew he needed to use a napkin. My mother on the other hand always ate with a solemn and polite refinement—similar to me.
...
After finishing my meal I placed my plate on the bedside table and sighed to myself, leaning back in my bed and feeling the pillow against my back. It took me a moment to realize that I had been changed out of my uniform and into a comfortable and soft gown.
Looking down at myself I took in my current outfit. It was a soft, blue, tunic-like outfit. A sash was tied loosely around my waist. The outfit looked similar to the pajamas I wore back home.
My attention was suddenly brought to the clock in the corner of the room, seeing that the current time was 12:26, meaning that the lunch period had just ended and that eighth period had just started.
I was unconscious for almost six hours?
I thought back to my schedule and cringed at how much work I had missed in the periods. If I remember correctly I had a test in history class about the Cold War!
My body shot up from the bed, but just moments later my head began to pound as if someone was smashing it into a wall. I let out a groan of pain as I gritted my teeth, falling to the floor as I was overcome with nausea.
The curtain was ripped open as the nurse darted in and knelt down. "Sweetie? Can you hear me?" Tiny trickles of sweat ran down her face as she tapped me on the neck.
"I-I'm fine...I just...got up too quickly." I managed to groan out.
"Let's get you back in bed." She slowly reached her hands under my body and lifted me in the air, before placing me back into the bed, placing a hand on my forehead.
"Don't scare me like that." Her eyebrows creased into an almost parental look as she backed away, her gaze still fixated on me.
"You'll be sitting here for a little while longer. I'll give you a quick prescription and you'll be on your way."
"Prescription—is it that serious?" My eyes widened as I watched her open the overhead cabinet and extract a bottle tainted with a faint orange hue.
Inside I saw a few purple pills, their surfaces were smooth and they appeared to be tablets.
"Take one of these every morning, and I ensure you won't feel anything bad." Her expression reverted back to a more motherly smile as she handed me the bottle.
I took it with shaky hands, feeling the texture of the bottle on my fingertips. I had held a bottle like this before—many times actually.
My father had these pills inside of his drawer he always made me get after he drank. He had told me they helped his stomach, but I could tell it was something else. After he takes them he stands up and walks to the bathroom, locking the door behind him.
After a few minutes of awkward silence I'd hear gagging as my father was either on the toilet or sticking his head in the bowl and puking his brains out. Now that I think about it, the pills most likely sped up bodily reactions and prompted him to throw up or defecate quicker.
I shivered when I recalled the numerous incidents, but the warm hand of the nurse roused me out of my daze.
"After a week, come back and tell me how you feel." Her voice had softened to almost a whisper, the kind of whisper that made me feel relaxed and comfortable.
"Now...I think you're ready to be on your way." She approached the curtain and opened it, allowing me to view the rest of the office. In the corner on a chair was my uniform, which was neatly folded up.
Before I could move to grab them her hand quickly laid on my chest, pressing down slightly as she exchanged a worried glance with me.
"Get up slowly this time, if you move suddenly like that again you'll either faint or puke."
"Got it..." I quickly absorbed that information as I put one foot on the ground, slithering it into a pair of slippers that had been provided for me.
Taking one slow and careful step at a time, I approached the chair and grabbed my clothing. My uniform was almost perfectly intact, except the navy blue blazer had suffered a little damage.
"You get changed, I won't look." The nurse's voice sounded behind me as I approached the nearest closed space.
...
From that point the rest of the day was somewhat smooth. But one of my primal fears upon stepping out into the hallway was being hammered with questions about my condition. But strangely nobody knew about what happened earlier today.
The distance of falling to the floor was great enough to cause some clatter, and the sounds of the boy's electricity quirk were sure enough to make a ruckus.
I had managed to attend history class and take that test, though some of the questions regarding political figures and their ambitions made me wonder if I was getting a migraine.
Afterwards the rest of the class went smoothly and I took a small nap in the school library after getting permission from my ninth period study hall teacher. I could say the library was a second home.
During my summer I would often spend hours in the library diving my nose into whatever books I could get my hands on or studying on the computers.
One time I had found a somewhat interesting article about a new species of fish which had glowing scales, something scientists had claimed was an effect of either climate change or some atmospheric activity.
When I turned away from the computer to stretch my back my gaze drifted to another computer screen. An adult man who appeared to be in his early twenties was sitting at a desk in a more secluded corner. Though I only caught a glimpse, I can only describe what I saw as: "something my dad would beat me blue over if he caught me watching."
...
The trip back home was still drenched with rain, as it continued to pour from the sky. Stepping back into my neighborhood was like entering a new dimension of terminal illness, drug addicts and misery.
Our next door neighbor was a middle aged man who had a methamphetamine addiction, and I always felt nauseous walking past his house, which almost always seemed to burn with the musky scent of something akin to nail polish remover.
Otherwise, the rest of the neighborhood seemed to contain somewhat rational people. The park was outside of the neighborhood and more in the urban area of Hosu's borders, so I didn't have to worry about being snatched or kidnapped by some drug addict who was too high to come down.
The neighbor across from us sometimes screamed in the late hours of the night, saying how there were shadows in his room who wanted to eat him. My windows were pretty thin and susceptible to noise, so I was always awoken.
Even if his screams seemed to piss off the rest of the neighborhood, especially my father who would wake up cursing and threatening my neighbor, I somewhat felt bad for him.
Having a life where the unreal became real and you saw things you couldn't possibly fathom sounded like a nightmare come to life if you couldn't control it. Luckily I could control what my mind did to a certain extent, as I had grown so adept at escaping my life and fleeing to my imagination.
Opening the front door I stepped inside of my house, looking around. It was only for a moment before I felt something hit my face, it was my fathers fist!
"You're hiding food and stuff from us you son-of-a-bitch?!" My father yelled, pointing to the kitchen counter.
Scattered across the counter were the items I had discarded outside in my fit of rage and frustration. Before I could explain anything else, my body had reacted on its own, dodging the bottle of beer that had been hurled in my direction.
"You're keeping food and stuff from your own fuckin' family!" I looked into my fathers eyes, seeing the anger and malice. His breath was angry and irrational.
I felt my body freeze, turning cold as if I had looked into the eyes of Medusa herself.
"I knew I should have left you in that damn dumpster, you no good bastard."