"Just down there," a bored-looking nurse told us tiredly. "Last door on the right." We hurried down the corridor she indicated to, and through the door into a sterile white room, that reminded me eerily of the one I'd woken up in a few weeks ago. Only this time it was Donna lying against the snowy sheets. I froze in the doorway of the room, unable to move, eyes transfixed on her still, unconcious form. She looked sallow and fragile, she had a tube up her nose for reasons I didn't want to know, and an IV in her arm. Her hair was messily spread over her pillow, and she looked distressed, despite the escape of unconciousness. The only sounds in the room were the beepings of some machines and the muffled sobs emanating from the male members of the Way family. I was crying too, but silently, tears streaking in little rivers down my cheeks. Guilt and self-loathing engulfed me, forcing its way down my throat, choking me, drowning me, pulling me into a downward, endless spiral of pain and misery. My fault, that was all I could think as I stared at Donna's face, and thought of all the kindness they had shown me. This was how I repaid them. I bought my misfortune onto them. If I had never stayed with them, if I had just kept my insignificant problems and my pathetic little feelings to myself, they wouldn't be here now. They wouldn't be suffering like this. Donna, sweet, kind motherly Donna, got a bullet fired into her stomach because of my idiocy. I should be quarantined, I- My train of thought was disturbed by an arm around my waist. I looked up. Gee was stood beside me, his cheeks wet, eyes glowing red. I felt another coursing stab of pain when I looked at the misery in his gorgeous face and knew I was the reason for it. How could I have done this to the boy who meant the world to me? I pulled out of his embrace, couldn't help it. I had stained the tapestry of his life for long enough. I looked away from him quickly, but I thought I caught a flash of hurt in his eyes before I turned my gaze away. Of course he was hurt, I had hurt him. I'd hospitalized his mother, for crying out loud. I had bought turmoil upon his family to repay the kindness they had shown me. Gee stepped toward me again, hand outstretched, and I stumbled backward. By now Mikey and Don were watching through their tears. Gee was still staring at me, a mixture of pain and shock evident in his expression. Again he tried to advance, and again I stepped further from his grasp. "Krissy..." I didn't want to listen. I didn't want to hear what he thought of me, I already knew how much he must despise my existence. So I took the coward's way out, like always. I ran. I ran away of what I was afraid of, too gutless to face the consequences of my pointless existence. I ran down plain corridors, past patients, loved ones and staff without a care as to what they may think of the broken girl charging through the hospital. Eventually I came out through the main doors of the building, hit by cool air that made my damp cheeks sting. Unaware of any real direction, I wandered around the building, not particularly caring that I was cutting across roads and car parks. Let them hit me, I thought. Let this miserable excuse for a life end. I walked, or rather stumbled, for about five or ten minutes befor coming across a bench in a secluded part of the hospital grounds. It was a small area, grass, wildflowers, and this bench. Nearby was a side door to the hospital buildings, and I assumed the little space was usually frequented by long-term patients. For now, though, it was deserted. I sat on the chipped wooden seat, and buried my face in my hands. I felt so helpless. I had made a mess of everything, and now I was lost as to how to fix it. I was reminded of a young child, tying knot after knot and then being at a complete loss when it came to undoing them. I was yearning for childhood in that moment, the carefree oblivious innocence before reality reared it's ugly head. I'd give anything for that now. My head ached with all this thinking, and with a sigh I reached into my bag for an aspirin. As I was digging around, I felt a little stab in my index finger. I pulled it out and saw the tiniest droplet of blood forming. Frowning, I looked back in and found a small blade, probably taken from a pencil sharpener or something of the sort. I was mesmerized. Gerard had made me throw all of my blades and razors away, and at the time I'd gladly obliged, happy to be on the road to recovery. I must have missed this one. In that moment, I was glad I had. I pushed my sleeve back eagerly, and began reopening freshly-healed cuts with a vengeance. Again and again, revelling in the sweet pain. I pushed deeper and deeper, punishing myself for everything I'd done. I was lost in the masochistic act of relapse, when a shadow fell over me, causing my head to snap up almost painfully.

Notes

Oooooooh, who found her? I'm sure you can already guess, but oh well. I wasn't gonna do this, to be honest, but it fit my mood. I had a cutting relapse of my own recently, after nearly eight months staying clean.... so yeah, feeling angsty, so I've channeled that into my writing. I'm sorry. On a happier note, I can't believe this has hit 1000 views! You guys make me so happy, I love every single one of you. Stay beautiful, keep it ugly, Paranoia Violence out.