Dig. Dig. Dig. Dig.
The pain started to grow slowly at first. Annoying little pressure points that crawled along his skin before it became harder, heat starting to flare out. Roughly the nails pressed and moved, bringing out the red flesh until the raw wounds began to welt, nerves pulsing. His mind began to worry, sending messages of alerts, commands to stop the growing feeling, to bring the movement to the end.
But he couldn't.
Harder. Dig. Dig.
His voice cracked in protest, his bright eyes growing wide when his body suddenly shot up from his bed. His bare feet, moving across the cold ground began to pace, back and forth, to one side of the white room to another. This was wrong, no. This made no sense. His breath started to become quick and short, panic setting in. The padding on the walls, they suddenly started to seep black, goo dripping down. He tried to cry out but his voice was lost to the pain that shot up his arms, ripping at the muscles of his forearms. Closing his eyes, he tried to stop, try to cry out for help. Throat closing off, lungs squeezing out the air left inside. He was drowning again in the black water. Rushing forward, his body slammed into the wall, hands touching, brushing, and moving across the surface.
Stop! He wanted to yell. Help me! But nothing could come out, no matter how much he tried. Pulling away, stepping backwards he looked up and went still in shock. The black stains were wiped clean, leaving only the white padded walls once again but there was something else on them. Something bright and red.
A name written crudely dripped before his eyes.
Suddenly imagines began to flare up behind his eyes. So many faces, his body started to shake as his brain went into overload. So many voice shouting all at once for his attention, crying out a name he did not know. His hands quickly touched his ears, trying to cut off the sound, trying to silence the voice that kept whispering to him. Why? Why were those eyes hunting him?
Green eyes kept following him, no matter where he ran. He rushed to the door of his room, smacking it with his fist, grunting out his discomforted, his plea but no one could hear him. Turning back to the room, fear began to curl around his spine when his noticed what was different in his room. Just a moment ago, his room was white and clean but now, the walls were covered with red. Crud writing of the same word over and over, big and small, dripping thin lines slowly down to the floor. How? How did this happen? He was the only one in the room. Trembling hands rose to brush threw his hair but his eyes caught the different color his fingers had.
Thumbs brushing along finger tips testing, feeling the wet liquid before suddenly noticing the faintest sound of water. It was a slow dripping sound, impacting the ground at his feet. His arms stretched out before him and finally, his voice came out loud and clear.
His forearms were tore open, bleeding freely. He shook his head, the pain hitting him full force. The cuts were thin and small but there were many, going in every direction. His fingertips held the clues, his eyes spying little bits of skin in his nails, enough to make his stomach roll and bile rise up and land on the floor. He gagged and fell to his knees in the mess, his hands reaching out to stop himself, to hold his body up as it hunched and arched in his dry heaves.
The door to his room slammed open then, knocking into his legs causing him to cry out and crawl away. Two people in blue scrubs ran in, two male reaching for him as he cried out in panic, his arms covering his face. They touched him, pulling him back to his shaking feet but he tried to fight them off, his voice ripping out from his raw throat in a plea. He wanted them to let him go, leave him alone! They were going to take him to the lake! They push and tugged, one way to another until his body was slammed into his bed, one of the two men landing down onto, immobilizing his upper body and arms but he still tried, his feet kicking, trying to throw him off. They called out and a quick prick to his hip made him go still. His body was starting to get heavy right then, limbs filling up with sand, dragging him down into the darkness of sleep. He groaned out, head rolling to the side on the mattress, eyes lids struggling to stay open. 'N-No.' He grunted out, if he slept he would be there.
The man with those cold green eyes.
The orderlies slowly let him go when he went completely still. One checked his pulse to make sure it was steady and slow while the other began to grab the sheets, pressing them into the seeping wounds on the patient forearms. They looked to one another worriedly, unsure and confused. Once they deemed the man to be stable for now, they turned to look at the floor, one of the orderly swore while the other covered his mouth in disgust.
A name written in blood covered every inch of the walls. Repeated over and over again that one of the orderly mutter.
' Dean?'
The other shook his head at the question, 'I have no idea.. come on. We need to get him treated.' And with that, they began to work.