"You're bleeding."
He was like a child coming to his mother, skinned knee and shiny eyes.
He was bleeding, chest and cheeks, a small letter s craved into them, a reminder.
It seemed like only seconds ago I was attacking Sylar and saving the day, it was so strange, so unlike me.
"I-I didn't like him. He was too hairy."
He let out a chuckle; it was nice to make someone laugh rather then run in terror.
He shuddered in pain, the small bit of happiness turning to sorrow with a snap of a finger.
It seemed that Sylar took a big chuck of Mohinder with him.
"I could fix you up. I'm not worthless, plus I read a lot of medical books."
"I was locked away, pink room, pink bed, for sixteen years. Books became my best friend, along with a lot of stuffed things with eyes. I mostly read the books that showed a lot of blood, me and my damaged mind loved it."
He was tougher then I thought, no screams, no whining, nothing but the small sound of grinding teeth.
"All done, you did well. Pretty brave for a doctor who wears rainbow shirts."