The Hospital: Trigger Warning: Self-Harm
âDonât care.â The response was quick and hard, Sanders finding his fingers feeling thick as he fumbled at the keys of his phone. âGonna⊠taxi. Walk. Something.â He shook his head, legs guiding him outside without his knowledge. His world was so very small at that moment, focused on the phone and Toucey and nothing else. Drive? Fuck that, he didnât care. He was getting to his brother. He only looked up - wiping his eyes when did he start crying fuck that he didnât care - when a familiar horn sounded.
Lily was waiting in his car outside, looking panicked herself, leaning out the window. âFrank texted me too and I knew you boys werenât going to be sober. Get in.â In these moments it was easy to see how the petite girly little woman with the short hair was a Toucey, the words so utterly commanding it was as though being able to take charge of a situation were a hereditary character trait.
Worth sat in the backseat. He said nothing. Lily said nothing. Sanders said nothing.
He remembered when he was young how much he hated sitting in the back. He sat in the back with his family, with his friends, and goddamn was it hard to feel cool while doing so. He had always felt as if he had no control when he sat in the backseat, and now, having no control over anything including himself for the entire day, he felt stripped of any power, any life-force, any will to endure that he had once had.
Lily screeched the car to a halt just past the sliding emergency doors and the three of them spilled out of the vehicle. They were running down the halls, shoes slapping against the sterile linoleum, shoving nurses and patients alike out of the way. Worth skidded to a halt behind Sanders with Lily coming up behind the both of them. He looked over the top of Sanders' dark hair to see a doctor walking briskly towards them. Worth could feel himself pale at the sight of the white lab coat and calculated expression. He briefly thought about how glad he was that this never became his job.
