Lost

Wounds and Questions ☘ Jeremiah

It took me one drink to make a decision. Not exactly true but one drink started the foolish thoughts. My injuries kept me awake as I just cried silently in my apartment in complete darkness and the sound of my heartbeat and ticking clock keeping me alert to the surroundings.

I didn't tend to my injuries because the pain is what I desired in that moment or every f*****g moment of my life.

A bunch of daisies was scattered on the ground. Poor flowers had to face my wrath and now like everything in my life they were destroyed as well. I picked up a bottle of whiskey and gulped down burning my throat in the process. I needed to get numb and drunk soon enough because I was suffocating. Whenever I closed my eyes my sister was smiling at me and I was choking with panic.

I can't die even if I wanted to, that was the last thing I promised Charlotte. That doesn't mean I can't try indirect methods, drinking being one of them.

Fighting pain with pain, Magenta said.

How is that she read right through me? Even behind the mask, she knew it was me. She offered me help even when I nothing but rude to her.

Why was she so f*****g aggravating?

And that is what started my insanity and now I was sitting with her after drunk driving to the damn hospital she worked in. Why was she here at this time of night though?

I was drunk, what was her excuse?

***

She looked like she was crying about something before I came but I didn't bother to ask. If I asked I will be interested more and that I didn't want. I sat there next to her and just like her presence was like an aroma candle, calming and soothing in the locker room, her presence immediately calmed me down.

"I am seeing things." She said in a whisper and yet it was loud enough in the silent hospital corridor.

"There is a movie star sitting next to me." She was mumbling to herself like a lunatic.

"No dumb, I am really here." I frowned at her insanity.

"That was to make you talk." And she looked at me with a smug look.

"So you finally realized that how important Magenta is and her help is essential?" She referred herself in the third person which was kind of funny.

And she was right but I did not say that.

"Or you could always say you needed help from a hospital too far from your house." She was shunning all the excuses one by one.

"I wanted to be around someone so I don't kill myself," I stated shortly and turned to look at her reaction.

Her eyes always sent a hit to my heart. Her appearance had an aura of pain around her, her attire told me she was poor but her eyes were like stars, managing to twinkle in the darkness.

My statement didn't shock her or made her run away fearing of my insanity. Instead, she just sat there breathing calmly.

"So what is it like to act in movies?" Out of all the questions in the world, she started the conversation with this.

"It's another kind of work," I answer her question nevertheless.

"So you are not passionate about it?"

I am not passionate about anything. But I don't say that out loud.

After a moment she sighed deeply and turned to look at me shifting her whole body in my direction and crossing leg over leg she looked at me intently. And for some stupid reason, it gave me jitters.

"Let's play a game." She said sniffling confirming my thought about her crying.

"Game?" I repeat not sure she actually meant that.

She nodded.

"What is the game about?" I asked.

"Ten questions." She said with a small smile.

"f*****g no way, I am not going to answer any of your nagging questions. I have better things to do." This aggravating little person had to stop smiling like that.

"Better things, huh? And yet here you are." She said dryly.

I gritted my teeth lest I lashed out at her.

"There is nothing you could ask that I will answer, my fans know almost anything." I sugar coat my words.

"And I am not a fan." There she goes insulting my ego.

"Why, are you from another century? Even if you are not my fan I am in the tabloids every other day."

She ignored my question and I know how it felt to get a silent treatment, infuriating.

"You favorite season?" She asked presuming my silence for a yes.

"None," I answer her in a gruff tone reflecting my reluctance to answer.

I thought she will go all dramatic and say why and winter is so beautiful and spring is so romantic but she just nods looking down at her fingers.

"Your turn." She prompted me.

I sighed trapped in this game now.

"Favorite color?" I asked the most cliched of question not very good at this.

"White."

"One thing you love about yourself?" She asked and froze me for a moment.

"Nothing," I mumbled realizing how true this was.

I had stopped liking anything about myself since Charlotte died.

"Not even your strength?"

I scoff her words, "In the ring?"

She shook her head in a no and said, "No, for fighting through pain and living each day."

I was left speechless at her words as I just stared at her while she played with her torn jeans.

"One thing you love about yourself?" I asked awe still intact in my tone.

"Too many to list." And weakly laughed covering up a real answer to this.

Before we could ask more questions, a buzzer in her hand buzzed and she got up instantly walking towards one of the rooms. I followed obviously.

The place had two kids, not above eight, one was sound asleep and other was crying. The place was built to appeal kids with Disney wall decals and windchimes, stuff toys were lying scattered on the ground but besides that, the place was neat and clean.

Magenta walked to the crying kids and did some normal checks for fever or anything.

"I am hungry." The kid shared his problem and she laughed.

I couldn't stop myself from enjoying the sound of laughter.

Apparently, they have prepared meal boxes for a situation like this and she immediately pulled out one for him and started feeding. I just stood outside the glass door silently watching her work. She talked with the kid about dragons and unicorns, about iron man and spiderman and he animatedly answered.

After a while, she walked out with a smile on her face, sweat beading her forehead.

"This place tortures the s**t out of me," I grumbled and realized I shouldn't be standing in this place for so long.

She didn't listen to my words as was next to water filter now and drinking a glass of water.

"It is awful, isn't it?" She asked and it took me a moment to realise as to what she was asking.

"Sick children?" I confirm.

She nodded.

"People are dying everyday Magenta, no need to shed tears about it," I said in a rough tone.

"I don't believe you feel this way." Her tone was tired.

"But I do, why should I f*****g care about other people's life?"

"At least he has some good memories, at least he doesn't have to face the cruel world." She muttered softly but I heard it.

I walked next to her my mind replaying her words and try to put meaning behind it.

"Are we still playing the game?" I asked and she nodded with a cautious smile on her face.

I contemplated my question carefully to get some answers about her.

"What do your parents do?" I asked to at least get some kind of insight.

"Hypocrite." She said but not in an offended tone.

I was a hypocrite, I didn't want to divulge any information about me but here I was asking her personal questions.

"They are dead." Her tone was flat and it carried no grief.

"Mine too," I answered not sure what else to say.

We kept walking and she reached a glass case and pulled out a box from it.

It was five in the morning and I had no idea that I spent three hours here.

"Sit down." She said and I raised my eyebrows at her.

"Since you are finally sane enough I thought I could clean up the wounds." As soon as she said it I realized I had injuries all over me and I had forgotten the pain for a while.

"I am fine Magenta," I said and backed off instead of sitting down.

"Sit down." She stared at me with a calm voice that said she was not be messed with.

"I am not taking orders from you." I snapped at her but she remained calm.

She just soaked a piece of cotton in some antiseptic liquid which is going to burn as soon as it will touch my wound. She stepped forward and dabbed it on my knuckles making me bite back a wince.

"I think I refused." I was getting annoyed at her.

I hated being taken care off.

She looked up at me with that soul damning eyes and I looked elsewhere.

"I am not doing this for free." She said and now I looked at her.

"What do you want?" I expected her to ask for money seeing her condition or for a job or maybe an autograph in a crazy scenario.

"Some food and coffee." She mumbled as if she was ashamed and I saw a blush paint her cheeks.

She went on cleaning the wounds and after hesitation, I acquiesced to her treatment and sat down. She sighed in relief and went on putting ointments, bandages and other required s**t while I sat there in silence my eyes closed because I dared not see her in proximity.

It was when I could feel her presence right on my face I had to open my eyes and f**k, she was right in front of me tending to the wound on my jaw. I was brazenly staring at her now, scar on her forehead almost faded white, the freckles on her nose. Another set of scars on her neck. She smelled like hospital and medicines and it made it harder for me to breath.

Her hair was a tangled mess halfway through her shoulders and her skin was a delectable shade of caramel. Before I could get enough of staring at her, she moved back and closed the first aid box.

"You take injuries well." She commented.

Just to be sure that I had not lost all of my sanity, I put my hand on my heart and felt it beating at a wild pace.

Holy s**t.

"Now that you seem to be fine, can we get some food? I know you have a lot of money so I will try not to feel guilty about this." She already looked guilty and small and vulnerable.

Dangerous.

"Who said I will come along with you to get food?"

I saw a ray of sunlight reflected on the clean hospital tiles and I was hit by a realization, a new day has started. I actually lived without nightmares and crying through the night of my sister's death.

It was all because of Magenta and this was wrong.

I pulled out cash and pushed it into her hands rather roughly and saw her glare at me with that kitten fury of hers.

"You know all that drinking is not going to help you keep your abs." And just like before she crumpled the money a struggle clear on her face.

And she walked away leaving me with a rising sun, sore wounds and a hint that she was planning to get me to eat instead of herself. And even though I was broken and shattered but for the first time, I felt lost being pulled in two different directions.

And I had no idea what those directions were.

Did she mention my abs?

☘ ☘ ☘