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Prabodha - PrologueThe buzzing annoyed him. Kept him awake. He just wanted to sleep. But that damn buzzing wouldn't let up.
'Must be a fly,' he concludes, his assumption verified when the buzzing got closer and a light touch reached his arm.
'Stupid bug!' his mind curses groggily as he automatically reaches to brush it away.
The buzzing stops a moment, then returns, louder and closer.
He groans with annoyance and waves his arms around, trying to discourage the irritating insect.
Finally silence descends, but now he feels himself fully awaken. Sighing in defeat, he slowly opens his eyes.
Then he remembers…
The doctor stands over him, one of the day nurses hovering nearby.
Uncontrollably the tears come.
He sobs, wails. Tears streak his face as he convulses with the force of his pain.
It didn't work. Again. He still lived. And now he didn't even have the resolve to try again.
No, he'd promised himself he wouldn't. He'd promised that this would be his last attempt and if he failed, he wouldn't try again.
But it hurt so much to be alive. Why didn't they just let him go? Why save someone so desperate to die? If possible, he sobs harder, his mind breaking again.
Pulling himself from the bed shakily, he screams his sorrow and frustration as he tries to stifle his tears before ripping out the IV's in his arms. Knocking away the doctor and nurse, he snatches at the bandages on his wrist, knowing that the cuts he'd last made would be completely healed as though they never happened, just like always.
The smooth skin beneath his fingers brings rage and he lashes out at the other doctors and nurses who'd come to help restrain him. He bites and kicks and scratches, wailing all the while, the tears he'd fought back threatening to choke him again.
Suddenly, he can't breath, wilting as he painfully gasps for air. Tears stream down his face as the memories he'd spent six years trying to force from his head or kill with him begin assaulting him anew.
- Ruka.
- Her head snapping back.
- The crack of her neck breaking along with the rest of her bones.
- Blood pouring from the wounds inflicted by her protruding bones.
- His hands reaching for her as she fell, empty.
- His scream of denial.
- His father's fists.
- The pain of his own broken bones overwhelming the shock of what he'd done.
- The first of many nights in the hospital…
His arms slump, defeated. He hadn't been able to make them go away. The memories remain alive, eager to continue his torment. And now he couldn't even escape into death.
Because he'd promised.
The restraints put on him in the familiar hospital bed mean nothing. He wouldn't fight anymore. He wouldn't try to kill himself anymore.
He'd have to live.
A/N: Probodha: Sanskrit – means awaking (from sleep or ignorance), becoming conscious, consciousness