I've always had a feeling that I would die young. Ever since I started pondering on deaths door I've had this feeling. I could care less about the hell and heaven shenanigans, but death. I want it. The end of my life.
I want to be in my suit, in my...
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My eyes flutter open, the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights causes me to squint. My body shivers as I lay here covered with a thin sheet. The soft sound of a machine beeping nearby syncs with my pounding headache. Tubes wrap around my arm, tethering it to IV bags and monitors.
Turning my head slowly, I take in my surroundings. The bright white walls, the sterile equipment neatly arranged on counters, the plastic chair in the corner.
Geez, what the hell happened? Last thing I remember was that I was a game show host and I was great at it. I remember the feeling of the cold tile against my skin and the severe abdominal pain.
I distinctly remember that my chest was tight, a sharp and unsettling sensation that seemed to grab my breath. Horrible and absolutely unbearable. Everything else is a blur.
The door swings open, revealing my entire group. Quickly, I sit up straight, smiling at everyone's disappointment faces. It surprises me, especially when I see Dylan's face bright red.
Their costumes are messed up and I have no idea where my Spider-Man costume is.
Dylan slowly walks up to me before he slaps me and grabs me by my shirt. "Drugs?" He questions as my heart races. He's all up in my face. "Drugs!" He yells this time before slapping me. "Newt gyms, Noah. If he finds out, you're dead." Dre grabs Dylan, pulling him off me. Dylan and him whisper to one another before Dylan storms off crying which confuses me.
The fuck is wrong with these people. "Cocaine? Zomestine? Sleeping pills? Acetaminophen? Fucking nutmeg!?" Luke yells at me. Weren't those the contestants of my game show? "You said you were only taking Xanax!" I shrug a single shoulder as he brings up my old drug of choice.
Everyone goes silent and turns their head to Luke. "You knew!" Diego yells. Luke's face drops as he glances over at me. "Of course I knew, but I never knew about all the shit he does now." Diego grabs Luke by the arm, whispering in his ear before letting go. I try eavesdropping, but they're too soft.
Diego crosses his arms over his chest. "You'll get kicked off the team." His voice shakes with a mix of anger and genuine concern, making the air heavy with tension. "It makes me a better player." I clench my fist, my knuckles whitening as I explain the truth.
Atlas sits on the corner as he observes what's going on. He's awfully quiet with a blanket draped on his lower half as his eyes slowly shut. "Don't bullshit yourself!" Dre screams loudly causing Atlas's eyes to shoot open. "Guys! I'm trying to sleep!" He yells before shutting his eyes again.
We all stare at him for a moment before moving back to our original argument. "Don't bullshit yourself." Dre whispers this time.
I scoff at him as I cross my arms over my chest. "You need to stop this before you lose everything. You'll lose trust, you'll lose hope, you'll lose us."
"I prefer being on my own anyway." My eye begin to burn with tears. "I'm here for a fun time, not a long time." Luke rolls his eyes as he moves to the couch Atlas is asleep on.
