Broken

"Put a gun to my head." "And do what?" "Pull the damn trigger."

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4. Dances of Black Spots

I surface again and again only to be pushed back under. The billion different medications the doctors must have me on keep my head foggy. They keep me alive but dead. Nothing can get to my cotton filled brain. The only consistent thing going through my head is the annoying beeping from the monitors. My brain looses the cotton piece, by piece, until the day I finally manage to wake up.

The room is dark but the light from outside shows the pale yellow walls and white ceiling blurring together as the black spots dance across my vision again. The god damn beeping of the monitor makes me want to pull a gun on it, just so it will shut up. Barely able to move, I shift my arm and the IVs make me want to scream. My breathing grows deeper and the monitor speeds up. Dragging my left arm across my body, I grip the tubes in my right and yank them out. The tubes in my nose are pulled out when I drag my arm back across my body, letting it fall limp by my hip. The monitor begin beeping again faster and louder than before as I'm dragged back down again, into the blackness. 

 

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