Disclaimer: Squaresoft own's em. A/N: I apologize for anything that may seem out of place in this fic. I don't know much about hospitals, and the different kinds there are. This is all just made up from the top of my head. A serious AU. So please do not leave a review stating what ever mistake I made. If you do leave a review (which I hope you do after reading this) then please suggest ways in which I can improve my writing, and maybe suggest some ideas for future chapters.
Community Service Well Spent
Chapter 1 - New Volunteer
I don't know why he's in here. He doesn't even talk. When we have group therapy (insert gagging here) all he does is sit there. Alex (the counselor) always tries to get him to speak. Even though one of his favourite sayings is, "Silence is golden." He sure doesn't seem to think that when we're in group therapy.
He's not even new. He's been here for at least a year, I've been here for two. Most of the others don't really like me, I'm too hyper active for them. Especially the druggies. They always complain that I'm too loud. I don't think so. I just hate the silence. That doesn't mean I'll force someone else to talk like Alex does. I'll fill it up myself.
"Hey, Zell! Get your ass over here for your damn pills!" Ahh, the wonderful Nida. He barely talks, but when he does he swears like one of those kids of SouthPark. The others say he's been working here for several years, and the only time he talks is when he's telling us to get our ass' in gear to get our medication.
Jogging over to the counter, I grab the small paper cup labeled 'Dincht'. Chugging the two red pills down my throat (some kind of medication to make me less hyper) I toss the styrofoam into the trash bin and start jogging down the hall to the Lounge.
The room has a calm feeling to it, probably why most people tend to come here. It doesn't have the same sterile white walls as the rest of the hospital does. Instead there done in a nice dark midnight blue, a drastic change when you walk in, but the dark colour definitely helps us to relax a little more.
The floor is hard wood, so those with wheel chairs can get around easier. There's actually not many people here with chairs. The only one I know of is Him. I don't really know why, but it's a little disturbing to look at. His wrists are always chained to the arm rests, allowing only a small room for movement.
Surprisingly enough, there's no TV in here. Instead there's a few large tables (of medium height so the wheel chairs can fit comfortably) where most of us play various card games, or board games. It's unfortunate that the He can't play, but he doesn't really look like the type that would pass his time playing cards. Maybe drawing or sculpturing. His fingers look long and nimble, if not a little too pale.
Well, his whole body is pale (from what I can see anyway). Most of the people here wear ordinary clothes. The only ones who don't are the ones that have to stay in their beds because of some kind of illness.
He always wears loose black jeans, and a large grey sweatshirt. I don't know if he just wears the same thing everyday, or if he has other clothes, but they all just look alike..
I look around the room, seeing various patients and volunteer workers scattered around. The boy is by the large window again. When he's there, no one else ever bothers to approach. I've tried before, but I got too creeped out. He has the scariest stare, I swear. He kind of looks at you from beneath his lashes and gives you this.. Look, that literally sends shivers down your spine. I wonder where he picked that up?
The doors bang open and I turn around a little sluggishly (the pills are finally taking affect. I really wish I didn't have to take them..). A tall blonde stands at the entrance uncertainly. Jade green eyes glancing around the room, 'till they rest straight ahead. He barely glances at me, instead striding right up to the boy by the window. Must be a new volunteer. The nurses often try to get the new ones to try to befriend the boy, hoping to aid the 'Healing Process'. I highly doubt this one will be any different.
Giving a mental shrug, I sit beside a the tall man who thinks he's a cowboy and begin dealing cards.
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