COntRol

13

⚡COntRol⚡
Chapter 13

A few days later...
[Kaminari's POV]

Darkness.

It's all I could see.

I couldn't see myself either.

Only the pitch-black darkness enveloping me.

I couldn't bring myself to say anything. To see if there was anyone else here. To see if I were really alone. I didn't want to do anything.

It took too much energy to do anything.

My thoughts are scrambled. Incoherent. Dangerous. Honest.

Why do I exist?

It's so exhausting and tiring and draining to talk. To move. To breathe. To live.

But who says that I'm alive? Maybe I really am dead. I can't remember how I got here, or even when I woke up to find myself here. Every thought I conjure gets lost into the abyss, completely forgotten. But they had this reoccurring theme of suffering. Of pain. Of a lack of existence.

Yet... something told me that I wasn't dead. That this wasn't over yet.

Maybe it was the feeling of crisp hospital sheets on my fingertips, or the sensations of my heart throbbing in my chest, or even the slight ache in what I assumed were my temples.

I didn't care though. All I could think about was the effort of opening my eyes and seeing... whatever I would've before.

Sounds rush in simultaneously. The first I pick up on is the faint beeps of a heart monitor, only then noticing the gel pads on my chest. It was then followed by the muffled speech of a woman - probably Recovery Girl. It was then followed by a more gruff, masculine voice. After my ears felt like they were less under water, I identify the owner of that voice as Aizawa.

I could confirm that I was in a hospital bed, probably wearing a gown, sitting up with a pillow placed behind my head.

My eyes open without command, flinching at the white lights blaring from overhead. The slight movement probably caused Aizawa and Recovery Girl to look at me, their faces mostly of grave concern, from what I could make out of my fuzzed vision.

I knew I needed help but... a part of me keeps convincing myself that the way I feel is normal. Seeing living as exhausting is normal. Well, for a person as hopeless as Denki.

I can't find the ability, energy or will to reach out for help.

"One minute, Shota - he's coming around."

I blink a few times in attempts to clear up my vision, now looking at the squinting eyes of Recovery Girl. Her brows were pulled together, emphasising the wrinkles that framed her age.

"Kaminari, can you hear me?"

I groan a little as my temples pulsate, but I manage a nod in reply. My throat feels like sandpaper.

"Good. Shall I fetch you a glass of water?"

I open my mouth to reply, but was cut off by a scratchy scream, a malicious wave of agony travelling through my whole body, all of my muscles spasming unnaturally. My mind was foggy with static, and my eyes water, unable to hear anything but the piercing sounds leaving my mouth. I can only think of the searing on my skin; the increasing weight pounding down on my chest; the unpleasant churning of my stomach. And then, the sharp prick to my neck.