Mental Insomnia With a loud thud the young boy hit the ground. The impact awoke him from his deep slumber. Before he could retain an idea of his surrounding he broke into a coughing fit. Struggling to get up he hurried out of the room, almost tripping on the old beige rug that line the cold hard wood. The bushy haired kid ran through the hallway struggling to find his way through what seemed to be a never ending darkness as blood slowly trickled from his hand onto the floor.
“Damn!” he thought to himself. Finding that later to clean would be a bitch in this darkness.
His free hand slipped upon a familiar object. A door handle. The bathroom door handle. He swung the door open and hurried in; welcomed by the soft touch of the moon's light guiding him to the sink. He grabbed the pill bottle that he foolishly left there before he went to bed, and struggled to open it. The combination of the blood on his hand and the fit of coughing he was experiencing made it damn near impossible to open the tightly fastened safety lid of the pill bottle. Finally a satisfying pop interrupted his spew of coughs. Quickly pouring the continents of the tiny container and grabbing some he lifted his hand to his mouth. The boy practically shove the pills down his throat as he coughed up what seemed to be a river of crimson liquid. He collapsed to the ground as he regained control of his breathing. The sweet sensation of oxygen returning to his lung calmed him, as well as a bitter coper taste left from the blood. How could he of forgotten to take his pills. Ah, yes. The young teen remembered quite well now.
“I swear to god Migi if you do get out of the bathroom right now, the door won't be the only thing smashed in. Your face will be joining the party.” he heard the angry voice echo in his head.
Ah~ How did he forget. Tim had been rushing him saying he “needed time to make himself handsomer”. Whatever the hell that meant. First of all they were going to bed. Second it's not like he was making himself look good for some girl. The nearest female was sixty year old Mrs. McGeehan, who everyone just referred to as Mrs. Mc Crabapples, since she was as unpleasant as one.
Migi stood up looking through the window at the crescent moon. He turned away slowly looking at the trail of blood he left from the bathroom to his room. He huffed grabbing an old rag from the drawer and began to clean up what look to be like a murder scene. He thought about many things as he cleaned, but one stopped him in his tracts.
What was it like to have a family?
He often had pondered about this question. Whenever the boy went to town he saw many children with their parents. Many of them moped and complained about not being to get an item that they said they “couldn’t live without”, as their parents often refused saying it was too expensive or that they would forget about it in a week wanting something else to add to their collection of ever growing, forgotten junk. Some hid behind their parents as they seemed to be trying to avoid any human or outside interaction. He specifically remembered on little boy and his father, their hands had been intertwined so neither lost each other. As if to comfort each other in these dark times.
He sighed as he cleaned up the last of the blood in a swift motion of his left hand. He through the cloth into the hamper in his room plopping onto the bed lazily. Laying on his back his eyes fluttered around the room, as more questions began filling his head once again.
Why were the walls such an ugly shade of green?
Why was Tim such an egotistical jerk?
Why did everyone act like he was nothing more then air?
Would he ever get adopted into a foster home?
The likelihood of Migi ever getting into a home was slim to none. Due to his condition he was a burden to any family that would take him in. He had many doctor appointment to attend and he might as well just be drug overdosing on how many pills and drugs that were fluttering through his bloodstream 24/7, but it's not like the doctors cared. They lost hope for curing his symptoms many years ago.
The day it all changed. The day he practically lost his life to this bullshit disease. He had only been about three or five. The young boy had collapsed outside. He had been hurried to tthe neariest hospital. Doctors just thought it was asma. Over a few weeks it had begun to get worse. They couldn't have been more far off.
To Be Continued Author-chan: sorry for any mistakes I was writting fast :3