(edited 2018-12-09)
Locked Away, Chapter 2
Viridian City...
Misty had countless pleasant memories of the vast city. Most of them consisted of first dates, pokemon victories, and underwater ballets, but she cherished them all. Returning to the city, however, was always partially bittersweet, because for every pleasant memory of the city, there was one memory that hadn't been so pleasant at all.
The red haired female stepped off of the green and brown train cart in three-inch heels. She wore a pair of black tights as pants, with boots that ended right under her kneecaps. She looked almost like a model in her flowing, sheer-white blouse that ended above her mid thigh. Sleeves covered her arms loosely, and the neckline hung off her shoulders; clearly revealing, the top of her blue tank top that she wore beneath. In the midst of summer, there was no reason to cover up completely; in fact, she was already rethinking the boots, but her sisters had told her that any good woman did not wear flip-flops outside of pool and beach areas, sneakers were for kids, and so boots were her only spare.
Reluctantly, she listened to their silly fashion advice—no matter how absurd it may have been. Boots in the middle of summer? The red head grunted as she lugged her semi-large white purse over her shoulder. Passengers shuffled around her carelessly while strands of her hair fell into her face. Her hair was styled in a layered bob that curled right beneath her ears on both sides; it puffed a little more in the back, and hung a little longer on the right side. Usually she wore her hair up in a ponytail, but when she left the gym-the few times she did-she tried to look presentable by applying a bit of make up, side-sweeping her bangs-rather than letting them hang in her face, and wearing jewelry. Cascade water-drops dangled from her ears, with a matching silver necklace.
Around her, she had already gathered looks from prepubescent teenage boys with too much acne and a bad odor while she shuffled her feet forward on the hot concrete. A part of her wished that Viridian City had spent a little more time building their train station. Sure, even though it snowed in Kanto rarely, there wasn't a good reason to not have a roof over the loading platforms: it was too hot. What if it rained? Everyone would be running for cover and failing. Misty grimaced as she adjusted her dark sunglasses.
Whispering began moments after she approached the ticketing station to verify her arrival. Getting it stamped meant she could get half off her next purchase; anything to save a few dollars. Young trainers, occasionally older ones as well, turned to one another. Boys stood behind her in line, muttering to one another.
"Isn't that the Cerulean city gym leader?"
"I heard she has a mean streak..." the small one replied.
Misty cracked a small smile, listening to the boys whisper about her greatness.
"Who cares who she is, look at that ass. She has a booty I would..." He didn't have time to finish as the gym leader spun on her heels, and faced the boy behind her with demonic eyes. She glowered at him, flicking down her black patrol shades with a look of intense fury. Sea-green eyes were the portals to hell, if those boys didn't know any better.
"Who the hell do you think you are? Watch your fuckin' mouth!" She growled, cracking her knuckle as a vein popped on the side of her cheek. Like clock work, the two whispering teens turned, and fled the scary woman, doing their best not to trip as their tails tucked between their legs. She flicked off her glasses in one motion and cocked her mouth to one side with a sigh.
The Cerulean City gym leader, Misty, in all of her red haired glory, folded her arms in a huff as she turned back to the ticket counter. The man stared at her timidly, and slipped her signed ticket back to her before she smacked her lips and began her stroll down the walk while muttering: "Stupid kids don't know any manners." and shuffled her sunglasses into her bag.
Due to standing circumstances, she didn't have the patience for teenagers anymore. As a water pokemon trainer, and the Cerulean City gym leader, she spent a majority of her time wearing a swimsuit at the gym. Unless challengers were under the age of twelve, she couldn't catch a break with the comments; even when she was dressed properly, people commented on her looks.
The 'ugliest' sensational sister my ass. She thought bitterly as she pushed through the exit doors with a little more aggression than reasonable.
Greeting her outside the doors were the roaring sounds of the city, which was only slightly maintained by the high walls of the train station. The rush of different noises-honking, yelling, alarms-hit her with a loud sigh and she hummed while holding the strap of her bag. Breathing in the pollution, she smiled once more, her fit having passed.
Yes... Viridian City had so many pleasant memories. She thought with a smile.
As she strolled eagerly through the encapsulating town that had changed so much in the last few years, she kept her shoulders high, and confidence radiated from her. On the main street, buildings were high—some up to twenty stories. Silph Co. was the largest business in Viridian City, and their logo could be seen on every bus and nearly every street corner that she passed. Abruptly stopping her stride, she looked past the street lights and the busy streets. Littered along the sidewalk beside the train station were the bodies of the homeless, claiming to have been ran out of their homes by some evil force. They held out their dirty hands for money, and Misty had a hard time telling them no. Years ago, she tried to pass around what little she did have; but found that there was simply not enough. So now, she tried to avoid the beggars, though it made her heart heavy to do so. When the walk light flashed on at the intersection, and the cars stopped, Misty pressed onward without passing a glance to the out stretched hands.
About a block away from her destination she exhaled looking up at the large, metallic pokeball that hung at the end of the street indicating the pokemon hospital. The pokemon center, which used to only be a shell in the center of the city, was now a multiprocessing, mass marketing, fully operating pokemon hospital; and just so happened to be where she was heading. The hospital had recently released a new brand of pokemon food from some guy under an alias from Pewter City. It completely renovated how beneficial pokemon food was. As the decent, and good nature gym leader that Misty was; she didn't mind the short travel and extra money to provide her pokemon with the absolute best.
Along with that, Misty liked the city. They had a plethora of stores that Cerulean City didn't offer, and the atmosphere was a bit more forgiving. No other city was like Viridian City. Since Team Rocket had been undermined, and the former Viridian City gym leader, Giovanni, brought to face charges by the police; the theft rates were down by almost half. Little kids roamed the street free of worries! Aside from the 'homeless corner' right outside of the train station, people were able to relax in the city. Even the elderly could relax, sip tea and enjoy their day without a care. Really, there wasn't much Misty could think she disliked about the city. Outside of the homeless corner, the suburbs of the city were maintained, and there were a plethora of available jobs. When Giovanni was put behind bars for his crimes, Silph Co. opened several new branches of their company; thus, allowing the market to boom. Nearly every corner of downtown was littered with sidewalk cafes that allowed people to sit out in the sun, enjoy the gentle breeze and the sound of swaying tree.
Misty happened to be walking near one of the sidewalk cafes when an article that was on the back of an open news paper caught her eye. An elderly woman sat in a black metal chair, flipping through carelessly when Misty rushed to the railing of the small diner and pressed her fingers against the metal fence.
"Turn back to that last page!" Misty crooned to the old woman, getting a disgusted look in return.
"Get your own paper!" She shrieked, loftily slamming the paper down on the table, so that neither female could read it. Misty gave the older woman a snarl, rolling her eyes as she did. How immature!
Ignoring the woman, Misty turned on her heels, and took off down the street. Rushing to the next newspaper bin, which happened to be down the street and across from the pokemon center, Misty scrounged through her purse to pull out a few quarters. She slipped them inside of the coin slot, and then watched the latch release eagerly. A loud shriek echoed from the box as metal rubbed against metal when Misty pulled the door down and dipped her hand in to take out a single, neatly folded paper.
Cursing at herself for forgetting, it took her a few frustrated moments to look through the first three pages—she hadn't even been sure what she saw was what she really saw; or why she cared even the slightest about it. As she made it to the third page; she grimaced: News about a coma patient that was so quickly glanced over.
Deflated, Misty dead panned and shook her head. It wasn't what she thought.
"Man dies in coma: six days after fatal accident." She read aloud before lowering the paper. A wave of relief washed over her, but it only lasted a moment before she handed the paper off to some man leaning against the wall. While there were many great memories around Viridian; there was one looming, depressing reminder.
Namely memories of a young trainer named Ash Ketchum.
XOX
It took her several hours before she worked up the courage to walk to the hospital. The twilight sun died in the distance, and showed no signs of easing up. The heat had long since penetrated her boots, and she once again swore to herself that boots were a terrible idea. Staring at the large infrastructure before her, she carried a plastic bag full of pokemon food in one hand, her purse on her right shoulder, and a bundle of white roses cradled in her right arm. Her green eyes looked upward at the tall, multi-color building with an intense sadness in them. She hadn't realized the date, otherwise she would have been here a few days earlier.
Every year on July 22, for the last ten years, she made a customary stop at the Viridian City Hospital. It didn't matter if she was busy, if she was sick, or injured; she found a way here. Every year except this one. Sure, over the last few years, she had lost any hope for the frail boy she visited, but even to this day; she felt slightly responsible.
So every year, she would visit.
Maybe it was fate that she decided this week to spontaneously vacation from the gym? Maybe something good would happen? Maybe she wouldn't spend ten hours with what was essentially a corpse. Dusting curtains, cleaning nails and trimming hair, for someone that hadn't even made a slight notion of living in the last ten years. Aside from the fact that his results never came back negative, he was on life support, he was fine. Only, he wouldn't wake up. Disheartened by her own thoughts, Misty entered the building after scaling a few steps, and then approached a plump woman seated behind the front counter.
"Hello, I'm here to visit an Ash Ketchum. He should be in the long-term care unit..." Misty spoke quietly, tapping her fingers on the top of the desk as if partially ashamed that she still visited. She knew that her sisters made jokes about it, but she couldn't help but think somewhere, even if it was a very small place; it helped the dying boy. Maybe put him at peace just a little.
"Your name?" The woman asked in a sickly sweet accent.
"Misty Waterflower."
A few moments, clicking on her keyboard; she pursed her lips.
"I'm sorry, I don't see a Mr. Ketchum in the long-term care unit." She said to the gym leader, looking at her with wide, empty blue eyes. Misty blinked.
"Was he moved? Could you just search for Mr. Ketchum?" she tried, but the nurse didn't seem to care.
"I'm sorry, are you family?" she asked in an uppity tone of voice that made Misty shiver.
"No, but I visit every year." Misty tossed out, clearing her throat.
"I'm sorry ma'am, that's not good enough. The family has asked that he not be disturbed during this time."
During this time? During this time for what? Every nerve in Misty's body had started to violently twitch as she licked her lips. Deep down, though she tried to hide it, she always had a bit of a temper. "Just look up my name then, I'm on the visiting list, I promise."
"I'm sorry, I can't help you." The pudgy nurse suggested with a snooty tone. Misty cracked her neck then slammed her palm against the counter top. The sound echoed among the tall ceilings and alerted a few visitors. Misty didn't yell, she didn't scream, rather, she hissed.
"Listen, lady. I'm the 'ma'am' that fucking carried him in here ten years ago; now give me a damn room number or so help me I will..." She stopped herself, refrained herself from threatening the poor woman's life; she was just doing her job, after all. But Misty could tell that the lazy, absent minded woman had rethought her situation.
"...Just let me look you up in our system." She stammered quickly, flicking her fat fingers against the keys once more until she let out an elated sigh.
"I'm sorry, you are on the visitors list." She half squealed, causing Misty to roll her eyes. Of course she was on the visitor's list.
"His new room is on the eighth floor; room 856. Enjoy your visit." The nervous woman squeaked out the words so quickly that Misty almost didn't catch them as she took her visitors pass, and then took off. She ripped the sticker from its parchment, and slapped it against her left shoulder without writing a name. So long as she had the pasty yellow tag, people would know that she was a visitor and wouldn't bother her. Yay.
On her way to the elevator, she hadn't thought much about the room change, but she knew that something wasn't right. Long-term care was on the fifth floor. Ash had a nice room there, blue curtains with wooden stands that supposedly made the room feel more 'homely'. Why they would change his location after so many years? She wasn't sure. Though, the hospital was flooded with plenty of other coma-patients, some not lucky enough to have a name. There were several John Doe's that Misty had visited during her first few years, but as time went on, she realized just how minimalist those flowers were to them. There was no misunderstanding that once a person was in a coma for over a year, typically, the brain cells would start dying; most people who didn't wake up after the first month were removed from life support; but Delia, this boy's mother, just knew that her son would wake up.
Misty remembered the moment like it was yesterday. She had followed this silly boy she fished out of the river to find her bike, only to stumble upon him passed out and electrocuted in the middle of the road. Misty scoffed under her breath and shook her head as she waited in the elevator with a nurse.
In the beginning, Misty asked many times: What's the difference between being shocked and being electrocuted? The simple answer: people who were electrocuted didn't get back up. Of course, she didn't know that as an eleven year old, no, all Misty saw was a half-dead boy with a pikachu curled in his arms who needed help and she panicked. Misty didn't know CPR at the time, or really any form of first aid, so she did the only thing she could do. She threw him over her shoulder, and carried him into Viridian City, where eventually a nice officer named Jenny intercepted, and took them the rest of the way.
His pokedex had been fried in the explosion, and Misty could only assume that because of the power boost of the thunderstorm that day, as well as the metal bike—the shock of the attack was just too much. If a pokedex, designed to be nearly indestructible, had essentially turned into smolder, Misty wasn't even sure how the boy survived; let alone make it all the way to Viridian City with her practically dragging him.
With a beep from the machine beside her, Misty arrived on the eighth floor with a heavy heart as she exited the elevator with a sigh. Only the soft tap of her heels against the floor provided sound for this section of the hospital.
After the initial accident, she had stayed in Viridian City for two weeks in order to send out fliers, and articles, or anything else that could help identify the boy. Luckily, an auburn haired pokemon trainer, who heard the news from Misty's sisters in Cerulean City rushed back to Viridian City to address the situation. To this day, Misty could barely remember that boy's name. The name 'oak' flashed in her mind like a sore thumb, but she couldn't be sure anymore. After his arrival, he called Ash's mother, DNA tests were ran; and it was all verified. Back then, Misty thought that if she found Ash's mother, it would relieve the pain in her chest, but it only made it worse. So much worse. When she saw Delia for the first time, that look of absolute horror reflected in her eyes as she broke down at the sight of her son was a moment Misty would never forget.
Misty hoped she never had to go through something like that. Ever.
Since then, everything changed slowly over time, everyone but Ash. Delia started off peppy, hopeful and visiting religiously for the first three years; but over the last couple of years she must have drifted. Misty neared the boy's room knowing that everything was different now as she put the situation together in her mind. The room change, the time to grieve, public visitation revoked. She gnawed on her thumb nail. Years and years of waiting was hard on the participants, devastating, even. Misty couldn't blame Delia for her decision.
Empty beds lined the other rooms, and only a single nurse worked the floor, smacking her gum haphazardly while she text on her cellphone. She didn't even notice Misty enter the hospital room. Trembling hands squeezed the door knob, and then twisted it slowly until she was standing inside of the last hospital room that Ash Ketchum would ever see.
The eighth floor was for terminal patients.
XOXs
When Misty finally got settled in, she took the time to review his charts that were left at the end of his bed. A request was put in from a Ms. Ketchum to have the life support machines disconnected; only two days ago, on July 22. His birthday. After that, she disappeared without alerting the doctors even though she was supposed to stay until his condition ended. The mother probably couldn't live with the idea that she had to pull the plug on her own son, and because she couldn't deal, she ran. Had Misty been here on the twenty second like she was supposed to, she might have actually had enough time to talk some sense into Delia.
Yet, how was that Misty's business? Misty didn't have the pay the hospital bills, deal with the pressure of living with the idea that her son was locked away in a coma for years—no, Misty could put it out of her mind easily enough the moment she stepped off of the hospital's steps. Delia most likely thought about it every day, every night, every moment, and Misty only visited once a year. However, something about 'pulling the plug' after waiting ten years left her frosty.
Before taking a seat in the only available chair in the dark room, Misty took her time dressing the white roses. Hospital staff moved what few possessions that he had from his previous room into this white jail cell, including the pale blue vase she bought for his flowers over six years ago. She got tired of putting the flowers into small, Styrofoam hospital cups, so she bought a new one. One that would bring color to an other wise gray area.
Next, she fluffed out the white curtains, and pulled them open to let in the twilight sky. When the dying sun fell over Ash's face, she could see how sick he was becoming when he was no longer connected to life support. She gave him credit, most people died within the first couple of hours, some within the first few minutes, but he was a fighter; even if he was a vegetable. His cheeks were practically concave, his skin a pasty white and cold and clammy. If Misty couldn't hear the heart monitor in the corner, beeping occasionally to let her know that he was still breathing, she might have thought that he died hours ago.
Apparently, it was inhumane to euthanize human beings, so instead of just ending it, he had to die slowly in a pile of his own encrusting filth. Misty could barely stand to look at him; a skeleton of his former bright eyed self. Those chocolate brown eyes that stared up at her the moment she fished him out of the river plagued her on her visits. Misty covered her mouth thoughtfully. This was all just so wrong. It wasn't fair that Ash's life was over just like that.
Tapping her heel on the floor, a thought crossed her mind. She wouldn't look at him like this, it was barbaric to do so. Quickly, she hung her purse and plastic bag off the side of the chair before setting off in a fine huff. She stepped out of the room long enough to grab a few rags off the sanitary clothing rack, a fresh gown, and some sanitary gloves. Offering only a passing glare at the neglectful nurse, Misty spun around and re-entered his room quietly. Without caring about her hair, which took a little longer than she cared to admit in order to set perfectly, she tossed it into a quick bun; and then ditched her fancy blouse in favor of the practical blue tank top she wore underneath.
Carrying a bucket from the bathroom plump full of lukewarm water, she placed it onto the floor beside his bed; and dipped one of the wash cloths into it. The gloves offered adequate protection while she gently started to wipe his face off; removing some of the grime and oils that had formed there. While he wasn't nasty, with a catheter insert and only liquid drops, he still wasn't clean either. In the long-term care unit, he was sponge-bathed every day; but here, they only offered the bare minimum; a bed and coverings.
The persistent IV drip had even stopped and was left unchanged thanks to the delinquent nurse on this floor; and for a moment, Misty wondered if she should walk out and report the nurse—but at the rate Ash was decaying, she doubt that he would make it through the week regardless. It was awfully humane to even keep an IV connected when his lungs were probably crashing as each heart beat droned slower.
Misty walked away from him for a few moments to fetch a spare IV bag. Inserting a needle into a human wasn't any different than inserting one into a pokemon, and Misty had long developed said skill. She nipped and changed the IV bags before pulling out the fresh gown. Previously, she had thrown off his blankets, now; she had thrown off his old gown, and replaced it with the new one, only bothering to snap the buttons together behind his neck, and then gently flapping the others around the shoulder. That was more than the other nurse had done, at least. He was clean, and while he was far from the living world, he was taken care of.
With her task complete, Misty used her forearm to wipe away a stray sweat. Removed her gloves and tossed them into the garbage bin and then reached down into her purse to grab some nail trimmers.
The worst thing about blaming herself for an accident that-unless she had thrown herself on top of the boy and pummeled him back then-was unavoidable, was the persistent, stinging guilt that forced her to preform these kind gestures, even when the death sentence had already been drawn up. She felt like she had to do these things, as if it would ease her own mind to know that she had helped, if only a little.
Misty grimaced, he should at least be able to die with some dignity, no?
And so, like she had the last ten years, she plucked and trimmed at his nails, taking careful time not to cut him or break the skin. His skin was almost paper thin; translucent in the sunlight. Each vein until his elbow was visible like some kind of blue and purple mix of wires. The sight made her sick, but she pressed on until the task was complete. It wasn't like he could help it.
Once she finished, she was able to ditch her second set of gloves, clean up, toss the dirty laundry into the empty hamper, and return to her seat where she pursed her lips uncomfortably, watching him.
At the least, she thought he would look a little better after that—but he didn't look different—he was still dying. Still gray. She couldn't change that. And so she sat, with one knee crossed over the other. Cradling her chin with her hand, watching this young man die before her eyes. His body becoming his eternal tomb.
XOXs
Misty hadn't meant to doze off, no, she was supposed to leave almost an hour ago. Stretching, the gym leader let out a yawn while rubbing her eyes to clear the sleep. Inhaling the musty scent of the room, she glanced at Ash's paling face one last time before pulling her sheer blouse back over her blue tank top.
Leaning over his bed to get a good look at his face, she gently placed her right palm against his left cheek, the same one she had slapped so many years earlier; it was almost ironic, poetic even. She chuckled as sadness seeped into her eyes.
"Ash," she started, and then pressed her lips gently against his forehead before pulling away sullenly. "I'm so sorry this happened to you." She spoke softly, turning her entire body away, lingering her fingers along the fresh bed sheets.
"Wait." The voice was so weak it almost sounded like a whisper. Had Misty been anyone other than who she was, she might have even thought that she imagined it... but the weak grip that snatched her wrist, the hands that had only a few hours ago been as numb and lifeless as her doll collection was, holding her wrist in such a way that shivers ran down her entire body. Frozen in fear, she could see it, very briefly, but it was there, dark chocolate eyes staring up at her in complete panic.
"...Misty?" He questioned hoarsely, weakly, and for the second time, his heart rate machine spiked.
The death lurching scream that followed from the gym leader not only woke the dead, it woke the sleeping nurse at the station.
Author's Note: 2019-01-02
It should be noted that this story was penned before the whole "Ash's birthday is May 22" and trainers start on "April 1". So, our story starts in July.