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My attempt to be funny at a random moment. Oh well.

End Of The Line

February 19, 2018


    I never knew that an arm could break in so many painful ways. Both of them, actually. Apparently it’s not a good idea to climb a tree with chains on your shoes because you are guaranteed to fall flat on your head unless you block it with your arms - which are in turn busted.
    At least it’s better than having severe brain damage.
    “How did you do this to yourself?” The attending doctor asks. I’m propped up on a blue mattress that reeks of a sterilized cleaning agent. 
    I point to my shoes. “I fell from a tree because my shoes got caught. Face first. These things-“ I raise my thickly bandaged arms. “saved the ER an on operation on my brain.” 
    “Well your brain is already busted.” Samantha grumbles from her spot on the waiting chair across the room. She’s supposed to be a kind older sister helping out a poor, broken-armed kid, but she’s more of a chiding parent figure. I make a face at her. She does the same. 
    “Your parents are waiting outside the lounge.” The doctor says. “I’ll be out to meet them quick, and you,” she looks at me. “get some rest.” 
    Her smile isn’t that reassuring, but she swipes the curtain surrounding my tiny bed in the public ward so that I can’t see the mess that is the outside world. Unfortunately, being surrounded in cerulean sheets doesn’t do much for you when you’re an impulsive - no, wrong word - enthusiastic, teenager. And currently, the only possessions I have are a dime in my pocket and a metal rod attached to my arm. 
    Naturally, there is only one thing to do.
    I jump around a little and watch the dime fall out of my pocket. It rolls on the floor for a little, and after what seems like forever, it hits the floor with a tiny ring. 
    Heads. Right side it is.
    “YOU’RE NOT DEAD!” I scream as loud as possible as the curtain slides open to reveal a boy reading a book. He glances up and suddenly I hear the ward go silent.
    That was not one of my finest ideas. I hope they don’t move me to the psych ward. 
    The only thing that gets me off is that after mortifying myself just to get a kick out of things - which I had been expecting - the only reaction I receive is a blank stare.  
     The curtain slides open and Samantha yanks me by the ear as I howl in pain, but the only thing he does is watch, and watch, and watch as I’m dragged away to whatever ill-fate awaits me. 


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  • February 19, 2018 - 8:10pm (Now Viewing)

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