". . . going into shock. . . "
"Another bag of blood!"
Something whining inside my head. Make it stop. . . go away . . .
" . . . responding . . ."
"Alexander? Alexander, can you hear me?"
Not Alexander. Not not not not not. Xander. Always. Happy. Smiles. Willow-grins. Xander.
Alexander is bad. Bad memories, bad life, bad kid. Not good. Xander is good.
"I think he's trying to speak. The bleeding has stopped, and I think the stitches will hold."
Bleeding? Stitches? Huh?
My head hurts.
Thinking bad.
"You can let his friend in now."
Footsteps towards the door, then a soft voice calling for William. William?
British accent. Not Giles. Spike? Here? Why? And where is here, anyways. Oh look, almost complete sentence!
"How's he? Is he going to be okay?" Spike sounds worried. Wish I could remember why.
"We stitched up his wrists, and he seems to be coming around all right, but I'd like to keep him here overnight. At least one night." "Why?" "Psychiatric evaluation."
Oh.
That explains it.
"Can I go in?" Spike sounds kinda worried still. I don't think he likes the evaluation bit. I can almost hear the growl. Heehee. That's kinda funny. Spike growls. Hee.
Ow.
Laughing makes my head hurt.
"We're moving him to a private room upstairs. You are welcome to stay for a while. I much prefer some of the more . . . worrisome patients to see someone that they know when they wake up. I'll clear it with the nurse." "Thank you."
And there is that word again. Why is everyone worried? I don't really understand -- wait. Wrists. Blood. Spike. Stitches. Spike. But wrists? My brain better start working soon. This is getting really annoying.
"Hey, pet. You don't seem very awake yet. The doc fixed you all up, but you'll have to stay here for a little while. Not long, just a little while."
I heard all of that already, Bleach Boy. I'm not deaf. Or unconscious. Unfortunately. It would hurt a lot less. But hey, starting to feel a little floaty -- wonder what they put in the IV this time?
"I don't understand. Why did you do it? What happened? Why now?"
Why did I do what?! You gotta explain things a bit better, Spike. Drawing a really big, black blank.
"What could be so bad that you had to kill yourself?"
Oh.
OH!
. . . oops . . .
"Another bag of blood!"
Something whining inside my head. Make it stop. . . go away . . .
" . . . responding . . ."
"Alexander? Alexander, can you hear me?"
Not Alexander. Not not not not not. Xander. Always. Happy. Smiles. Willow-grins. Xander.
Alexander is bad. Bad memories, bad life, bad kid. Not good. Xander is good.
"I think he's trying to speak. The bleeding has stopped, and I think the stitches will hold."
Bleeding? Stitches? Huh?
My head hurts.
Thinking bad.
"You can let his friend in now."
Footsteps towards the door, then a soft voice calling for William. William?
British accent. Not Giles. Spike? Here? Why? And where is here, anyways. Oh look, almost complete sentence!
"How's he? Is he going to be okay?" Spike sounds worried. Wish I could remember why.
"We stitched up his wrists, and he seems to be coming around all right, but I'd like to keep him here overnight. At least one night." "Why?" "Psychiatric evaluation."
Oh.
That explains it.
"Can I go in?" Spike sounds kinda worried still. I don't think he likes the evaluation bit. I can almost hear the growl. Heehee. That's kinda funny. Spike growls. Hee.
Ow.
Laughing makes my head hurt.
"We're moving him to a private room upstairs. You are welcome to stay for a while. I much prefer some of the more . . . worrisome patients to see someone that they know when they wake up. I'll clear it with the nurse." "Thank you."
And there is that word again. Why is everyone worried? I don't really understand -- wait. Wrists. Blood. Spike. Stitches. Spike. But wrists? My brain better start working soon. This is getting really annoying.
"Hey, pet. You don't seem very awake yet. The doc fixed you all up, but you'll have to stay here for a little while. Not long, just a little while."
I heard all of that already, Bleach Boy. I'm not deaf. Or unconscious. Unfortunately. It would hurt a lot less. But hey, starting to feel a little floaty -- wonder what they put in the IV this time?
"I don't understand. Why did you do it? What happened? Why now?"
Why did I do what?! You gotta explain things a bit better, Spike. Drawing a really big, black blank.
"What could be so bad that you had to kill yourself?"
Oh.
OH!
. . . oops . . .
