Needles

Needles-Prologue


A/N: hey, my first fic on here .i just had to start this, now i already wrote this before...but deleted it, so if the plot sounds familiar....don't think i copied or anything...and i have this on fanfiction net too

Disclaimer: I own no pirates............... Dada da da dada ....and really bad eggs......

Warnings: Annnngggst..language, horror, violence....ect.. a little ooc-ness...but this kind of story requires it...


oOo


First the sharp sting and then a slow burn like liquid fire. The clear-ish liquid contained in the plastic vile drained steadily. Its contents forced down a narrow tube through delicate skin layers, tissue and finally reaching its destination, my veins. The needle glinted slightly in the poor fluorescent lighting as it was pulled out of my forearm. I note the washed-out shade of my skin, just how long has it been since...

The doctor on my left scribbles down something.

The injection was nothing but a minor irritation at best, nothing compared to the excruciating pain I've endured in the past...but this newly mundane routine is always followed by a different kind of pain, a kind of pain I have never known, or feared more. I chuckle a bit, a proud and disciplined warrior Frightened?Of a mere injection? That would have been unfathomably before, but now...

I feel the burn transform into a prickly sensation, like thousands of little needles running up and down my skin. Then the sensation soon dissipates altogether, but its not over, oh no, its just begun.

I catch in the corner of my eye the nurse to my right, I see the subtle upturn of her lips.

Bitch.

I look away, trying not to imagine slicing her into little pieces. I stare at the white ceiling and tense, gripping the sheets beneath me like a life line as I swallow anxiety and dry air. My tongue darts out swiping cracked lips. I could really use a drink.

Tiny bumps form on my wrist like a disease, they raise up threatening to burst. Spreading slowly they turn an angry shade of red while crawling up my arm threatening to engulf me. My heart hammers into my chest like a drum, the vibrations reverberating throughout my body, as pulsing hot blood cells rush through my veins.

I struggle hard not to yell out. This is how pathetic I've become.

Squeezing my eyelids tight I try again to block it all out...knowing that I'll fail. No matter how much I've seen this...it never ceases to disturb me. I dig into my palms now, irritating old wounds from the last time and the time before that and so on. Coarse leather bindings tied around my wrists and ankles rub my skin raw as I strain and thrash against them. The old bed creaks in protest of my erratic movements, the rusted head board bangs against the wall, leaving more dents.

I suck in a shaky breath of air and hold on to it.

And then.... black dots surfacing on my skin, seeping out like ink. They shift and creep permanently into my nightmares. A burning itch tickles my skin, I flex my fingers popping a few knuckles. The tiny stick-like limbs squirm tickling my skin as black eyes burn into my memory. Thousands of little black spiders swarm my arm, shoulder, and torso. I feel them everywhere, I clench my jaw thinking its gonna snap and bite my tongue vaguely tasting a mixture of a bitter and tangy liquid. I gulp swallowing vomit, blood and screams.


Every muscle is taught and strained as a bow. The steady ache in my joints increase in the stiff position I'm in.

Time slows to a crawl, I hear the insufferable noise of the clock ticking and the low hum of the ceiling fan.

Then without warning I sag, boneless, a large mass of quivering flesh, sweat and fear.


My body shakes, I'm panting harshly as I start to feel the edges of my vision dulling, a low pounding sets into my temple matching with my heart beat. The spiders fade into bitter illusions and distant smoke, as I anticipate the cold embrace of oblivion.


Its over...for now...


My eyelids droop, lashes fluttering against my clammy cheeks. I stare blankly ahead with blood shot eyes.


I'm somewhat aware of a muffled drone in the back round, its the Doctor.

I don't need to open my eyes to know he's scribbling down more notes in that chicken scratch handwriting, adjusting his wire framed glasses ever so often. He'll take a coffee break after this, black, no sugar or milk. The nurse will adjust my pillow humming a little tune, wipe my brow and glance at me occasionally in that condescending way.


I'm far more aware of my surroundings than they think...

...But who would ever listen to a Schizophrenic?


oOo

A/N: alright prologue done, hope ppl liked it, i know it was a bit different