Alright, actual update now! Sorry about that, if it caused confused with the other two chapters. I can't work technology. Once more, I apologize for grammar/spelling/etc.
Also, a disclaimer, since I forgot to add one in the Prologue: I don't own Hetalia or any of its characters.
ABJECTION
The rest of the group therapy is rather uneventful. It's full of that hippy-feel-good stuff that always seemed so cheesy and fake to Arthur. He spends most of the time attempting to stare through the blurry window. He imagines it's raining outside. A steady rain, with low, heavy gray clouds that soaks and chills you if you stand in it long enough. Something that would fit his mood perfectly.
As time drags on, he finds himself growing incredibly tired. It may have been from the lack of sleep; it may have been from all the crying. The past twenty-four hours have been emotionally stressful. Maybe if he feigns sickness he can get out of it.
But wait. He's in a hospital. They won't fall for that shit.
Well fuck. He's stuck, then.
Arthur listens to Ivan chatter on happily about sunflowers, ignoring the probing questions Dr. Tino attempts to ask. They don't seem to affect the large (Russian?) boy, in a way bullets wouldn't. Ivan's older sister, the one with the huge knockers, hugs his arm tightly and whimpers in a way that can only be described as wibbling, but otherwise pays attention closely (though Arthur feels like this isn't the first time Ivan has told this story in the little club).
Alfred 'Al' is up for interrogation next and answered boisterously, at least at first. However, once the questions get too personal he quiets and subtly changes the subject.
Looking closely at Dr. Tino, Arthur can almost see him give an exasperated sigh. The doctor forces his usual perky smile and moves on.
The process continues with two more in the group (Feliks and Matthew). They're rather chatty until the questions get personal. The Brit is starting to see a trend here.
None of them want to answer such an interrogation in front of other teens.
The meeting ends early and it leaves Arthur to wonder if all 'club' meetings are similar.
Toris and Dr. Tino line up the eight teens (what is this, primary school?) and lead them out of the room. The only sound is the echoing of shoes. Arthur hasn't a clue where they're off to and anxiety pools in his stomach.
An awkward elevator ride later, the group ends up in a cafeteria.
Lunch.
Patients from all other wards of the hospital are littered among the tables, some with nurses and some without. None of the food looks appetizing in the least and no one seems to be enjoying it. In fact, one old man in a wheel chair keeps throwing his rolls across the table (something Arthur would find comical if his stomach weren't about to give up on him).
They group is led into a lunch line, of sorts. A small plaque states that spaghetti with red sauce, green beans, and chocolate cake are all being served. It all looks more like gunk to Arthur. None of the other teens look too happy either.
Arthur finds himself sitting at a table with one of the quieter boys from the group, Matthew. Ivan and his sisters are alone at a table, the former babbling away in a Slavic dialect. Yao returned to the room with Toris, for reasons Arthur doesn't know and isn't inclined to ask about. Feliks and Alfred are sitting together nearby, engaged in a conversation. Alfred doesn't touch his food.
Pushing the death-colored green beans around his plate, Arthur notes another group of teenagers led in by a severe looking man (much more Psychologist-esque). The group is made up of eight boys, a few of them chattering happily (how anyone could be happy in this place is beyond Arthur).
None of them seem particularly interesting and he turns back to his plate. He doesn't try to engage Matthew in conversation and the boy doesn't seem to mind.
Their lunch continues in silence.
But not for long.
A distinctly French laugh shakes Arthur out of his present state of angst-ridden pondering.
Fucking hell.
The owner of the obnoxious noise sits beside him, grinning lecherously. "So you are the new meat," he says in a heavy accent and Arthur wonders if he should feel violated in any way at all.
He merely grunts in response and watches as the French boy's friend, a tanned teen who's grinning in the most oblivious way, sits at the table.
"Hola, Matthew!" He also has an accent, something Spanish.
Is everyone in this goddamn hospital foreign?
"Ah, you are one of the non-speakers," Frenchie assumes, nodding as if he knows everything in the world. The rage from earlier this morning seeps back into Arthur and his fist clenches around his fork.
"Just because I don't speak," he accentuates clearly, in a low tone, eyes flaring, "doesn't mean I can't."
Frenchie laughs once more, clearly amused. "It is nice to see someone with spark."
Arthur snorts and shoves a forkful of pasta into his mouth to keep from lashing out. Remember the strait jacket, he tells himself.
Thankfully, Frenchie's Spanish-speaking friend comes to the rescue.
"I'm Antonio!" He reaches out to shake Arthur's hand, his grin widening, if that's even possible. The hand hangs there, ignored.
"Arthur."
"Et I am Francis." Frenchie - Francis speaks loudly, a slight frown sent in Antonio's direction. Suddenly, Arthur feels as if he's being fought over and he won't stand for it.
"And I don't care," he quips harshly, before returning to his meal.
Francis huffs and mutters something under his breath in French, something Arthur's sure isn't a compliment.
The rest of lunch passes uneventfully, Francis and Antonio leaving as quickly as they came. Arthur's shiny newness wore off the moment he spoke and neither of the two boys are interested any more. Matthew had managed to remain quiet the whole time, as if he wasn't there. Arthur almost feels bad for forgetting about him. Almost.
After lunch is a short break, time to rest in their specific rooms. Yao is napping in his bed. Arthur takes that time to shower (a quick five minutes with shitty soap and an orderly standing nearby) and change into the scrubs everyone seems to be wearing. The shower doesn't make him feel any better.
Toris comes to fetch them after an hour, once more struggling to remove Yao from the room. The boys are led to the room from 'clubs', but there's a different group there now. Unfortunately Frenchie (Francis) is there, along with Natalia. The other four teens Arthur doesn't recognize.
Psychologist man is running this group, face pleasantly expressionless. It's the first real thing Arthur's seen since his arrival and he almost feels better about the group.
That is, until the man speaks.
"I'm Dr. Edelstein. Welcome to 'Games'. Today we'll be playing an introduction game, to welcome Arthur."
The urge to scowl returns tenfold. He doesn't feel very welcome.
"We'll go around in a circle. State your name and something you would bring with you on a trip."
Dr. Edelstein's voice is slightly monotone and almost annoyed, as if he'd rather be anywhere else.
Everyone is quiet, until an albino boy speaks up first, immediately grinning. He focuses on Arthur, smirking.
"Gilbert. THE awesome. I'd bring beer. Duh."
A short, agitated sigh can be heard from Dr. Edelstein, but he doesn't speak.
"Natalia. A knife." No further explanation is given, but Arthur doesn't particularly want one.
"Francis," Frenchie winks at him, lips quirking. "Et I would bring un miroir." Even with his small grasp of the French language, he can tell what Frenchie just said and isn't surprised.
A small Asian boy is next and his dead eyes look nearly traumatized. Arthur can see that he's shaking, too. "I am Honda, Kiku," he murmurs, looking at the ground. He says nothing else, but Edelstein doesn't press him for more.
The boy lounging at his side speaks up. "Heracles. A book."
"Ve," the next boy breathes out, smiling. He's the only one among them that seems to be happy. "I am Feliciano! I would bring... a pasta cooker!"
Gilbert groans, rolling his eyes. It seems the answer is typical of Feliciano.
"Yao. I would bring Shinatty." He doesn't expand upon who Shinatty is, but the rest of the group seems to know. Arthur is left with the peculiar feeling that it's a stuffed animal of some sort, perhaps the cat from earlier.
Swallowing, he realizes it's his turn to speak. Anxiety twists in his stomach. Shit, he can't think. His throat is dry and the room feels too warm. He can feel all its heat in his cheeks. Shit, shit. "Er, Arthur. Er... dunno."
"You have to answer," Edelstein interrupts. Silently, Arthur curses him. He didn't let Kiku speak, why does he have to?
"I. Don't. Know." He grits out, fighting the urge to cross his arms petulantly.
No one speaks, but he won't give in.
After a few tense moments, they move on.
A few more games a played, but other then that the group isn't exciting, save for the lewd grins from Frenchie and arrogant comments from Gilbert.
Arthur is called into Dr. Tino's office around three-thirty in the afternoon. He's sitting once more on the uncomfortable couch and he wonders if the office is a special kind of hell.
"How has your day been?" Dr. Tino starts without even a hello.
A grunt.
"Have the others been nice?"
A snort. Nice? Not exactly.
"Arthur, this isn't going to work if you won't speak," the doctor sighs. "I need you to talk to me. I won't bite, I promise. I'm here to help you."
Right. Just like you helped ruin my life.
A strange shiver came over Arthur and frowns, his skin prickling. Shit, he really needed some of that China White.
Still, he refused to speak.
"Should I start with speaking about myself?" Dr. Tino didn't notice the pallid tone Arthur's face has taken on. He takes the silence as affirmation and begins chattering.
Arthur quickly tunes him out, mind slipping into overdrive. He can't remember the last time he had shot up.
Another spasm of shivers dance across his skin. He's definitely sweating and his stomach is churning in the worst way.
He needs it. He needs it now. Fuck, he could cry!
"Dr. T," he rasps, cutting Dr. Tino off. "Dr. T, 'M not feeling so well."
The words are barely out of his mouth before he vomits.
Now the carpet matches the couch.
For those who care to know, Francis said that he'd take a mirror on his trip with him. Also, from my understand 'et' means 'and' in French.
Yes, Arthur is going through withdrawal from Heroin. From my understanding, Withdrawal can start pretty close (a few websites said a couple hours after last use). Apparently they get pretty bad 48 to 72 hours after and ease in about a week. But that's just the physical symptoms. The psychological last longer, according to several sites. If you have any helpful information about Heroin and Heroin withdrawal that you think I could use, feel free to tell me in a review or PM! Thanks!