Chapter Thirteen

~ Maka ~

As I opened my eyes I was greeted by nothing other than the darkness of the room around me, as well as the empty feeling of loneliness.

Machines beeped and whined from beside me. Their long, clawing arms reaching out towards me and implanting themselves inside my body.

Everything inside me burned with excruciation. From my throbbing mind to the veins that quivered inside my bloodless bandaged wrists.

Unfortunately, I was the only living thing inside this deserted room. White walls that held no such thing as creativity, flowers that sat non existent inside empty vases. I felt dull just by breathing.

I closed my eyes again, seeing nothing more than just the complete and utter dark once again. But whilst I lay there with my eyes closed, I decided that it was far better than when my eyes were open.

Slowly, I moved my hand up to my chest, where I felt a tube stuck to my skin, supposedly restoring my existence back to my body.

That's when I remembered it all. The insults, the blood, the water. It all came flooding back to my awakened memory, staining my almost empty insides with a whole lot more itching suffocation.

My hair was knotted and tangled as my head rest against it. Clumps of blood tying blonde strands together as if it wished to mark itself on - as well as within - my body.

Then one by one, I quickly began pulling them from my body, feeling their life saving desire part itself from my heat wrenching flesh.

The piercing sound of the machine from beside me echoed throughout the empty room. Beeping faster with every tube I parted from my broken body.

I have to get out of here.

I threw my legs round to the side of the bed, feeling my bones waver as I placed my feet against the laminate flooring.

Everything was cold as I sat there. Like the world I sat so smothered within tried to push me back beneath the covers of that hospital bed. One that was already stained with the piercing red on my blood.

I pushed myself up, already feeling everything around me moving as the air hit me. Unable to prevent myself from collapsing within the second I was standing.

"Miss!" A nurse exclaimed, catching me beneath my arms.

I twisted and turned within her hold. "Let me go!"

"No," she protested. "You've lost a lot of blood, you need to rest."

"I'll rest when I'm away from this place!"

I pushed at her arms. Trying my utter hardest to get her to drop her grip some way or another. But no matter how hard I tried, I was too weak to fight away from her possessive hold.

A doctor and two other nurses were summoned within the room, all grabbing hold of my damaged body and trying to pull me back to the bed. But I swore to myself that I wasn't going to go down without a fight.

"Stop fighting!" The doctor yelled, "we're only here to help!"

My elbow collided with his arm. "If I wanted help do you think I would've did what I did?"

The machines were still whirring against my struggle, like their beeps were enough to signal my exhaustion, like they would lead me to that bed once again, and I'd be forced to lay there - neglected.

"Maka!"

At the sound of my name being called, my heart stammered and I forced myself to finally stop struggling. Only to be faced by something far worse than any hospital bed.

In the doorway of the hospital room, stood a tall red bearded man. His messy white shirt and ripped jeans being the best things in which he owned.

His messy red hair, and tear bleached green eyes, all with the bitter scent of his alcohol stained lips, that screamed at me for the majority of my teenage years.

And then there were his hands. Those two clenched fists that lay drunk at his sides, the shape of his split knuckles, reflecting the shape of the majority of the wounds marked upon my body.

I held my head towards the floor. "I'll stop fighting, only on one condition..."

The doctor hesitated, "w-what is it?"

My father sighed deeply from the doorway.

"You keep him the hell away from me."