Ever since that night, David had been plagued endlessly from the nightmares that had been pulling at his mind. Every night he would wake up, dripping with sweat and fear, clutching at his hoodie and skin, making sure he was still there; in reality. Finally he grew so sick of it, so sick of the memory constantly playing over and over again of him hitting one of his only friends while he was heavily induced from the pills. It was his fault Simon was now in the hospital, paralysed, bound to a chair for the rest of his life -- or at least he didn’t hope for the second part. Hopefully there would be progress, a chance to walk again.
Next day came, and David got up at a decent time, showering and changing in a clean set of jeans and shirt, slipping on his black hoodie before grabbing his shoes. It was like any other day, except today he planned to visit Simon. He just couldn’t bare the guilt that was pooling and boiling in the pit of his stomach, making him unable to eat or even just breathe easy. Before David set out, he grabs his butterfly knife - something that wouldn’t easily be accept at the hospital but he needed it - and tucks it away into his pocket.
Though, he wouldn’t go to the hospital empty handed either, it would look bad. So David grabs one of his older blankets, a blank journal book, some new pens, and a spare hoodie, tucking it all into a simple grey backpack before slinging it over his shoulder and heading out.
Instead of driving, David takes the train, a service he can trust and depend on since he had been so nervous to drive again, especially still since he had been unable to kick the pills.
They still come, everyday. Delivered to his box without a sender. Tempting. Haunting.
Today though, David manages to not take any at all, but he was soon starting to regret it since he was becoming easily jumpy and spooked. Letting out a low groan, the older male pushes his semi gloved hands over his face, rubbing the bridge of his nose a bit before tracing his fingers over the scar on his cheek. The sound of the bell of the train broke him from his forced trance, letting him know they have arrived at the hospital.
Getting up and leaving the small platform station, the Swedish male makes his way over to the hospital, slowly stepping inside and nodding his head at people who greeted him. Hospitals were still a major fear of David’s, still fearing he would relapse, and... Shaking his head he tried not to think about it, instead, leans on the counter and quietly speaks to the nurse in a faux calm voice.
“Hey, I’m here to see Simon Henriksson. What room is he in?”
After getting his answer from the receptionist the older Swede walks past her desk, looking at the map on the wall before finally figuring out how to get to Simon’s room. It wasn’t that difficult, but it was pretty far from the entrance, he wondered why. Taking in a deep breath, and slowly exhaling it, he knocks on the door, waiting for a response before slowly pushing it open.
“Hello?” he calls out, “Simon?” Carefully David comes in, brown hues flickering over the bare empty room before looking over at the smaller boy, trying his best to smile.
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