Page 126 of Eyes Like Angel
Without looking his sluggish eyes up, the doctor said, “For the accident she has gone through was rough and unsettling. Of course it takes time, but it requires more effort for a speedy recovery and an excellent healing on the layered skin.”
“How long will she stay here?” I interrogated further.
The doctor drew a long, never-ending sigh. “It might take days, probably longer, depending how badly the injuries and psychosis are,” he explained. “If it takes days less than three weeks or months, the bills wouldn’t escalate higher. But based on the bruises on her legs, it might take a week and a half or more to recover. But her back scars and burnt hands, it might take time to form a new layer. Keep the gloves away from her, if she wants her body and flesh to recover. The concept of healing scars needs to be exposed.”
To my instincts, I shouldn’t kill or torture or maim the doctor, as he informed a scammed tactic of higher numbers to pay, their pathetic salary, but in my intrusive thoughts, I wanted to strangle this pretentious, haughty doctor until there’s no air left inside him until he becomes Doctor Corpse, rotting like the others I maimed and slaughtered.
The doctor, the people in Fort Heaven, they’re a bunch of raw meat obtaining knowledge on walking, talking, crying, working and playing, being as a know-it-all or being a fucking dumbass. They’re no dissimilar to animals, whether its dinosaurs or unique animals extinct, but these animals are distinct and know manipulation, being egotistical when they wished to be.
Too bad no destructive asteroids were shooting down on them.
Animals had houses and varieties in collections, interests and dislikes, backstories and tragedies, what ticked or tickledtheir fancy, and so forth. Life was like a manual, simple yet complex, not an easy formula to follow but once get the hang of things, everything falls into place.
Life was like a thread, it clung onto, or attached to the thread, ready to snap.
These animals were just a talking meat that can’t halt—had no filter from an ongoing opinionated, cluttered mindset, and they could be mindless and emotionless like a walking hot tea, hot liquid but meaningless substance, needed sugar, honey or lemon to pour in to enhance personality. Tongues and brains rotten in their little and bitter world, their personal bubble shrank, and self-righteous and ignorant simultaneously. Animals have occupations and status, it’s their own glory to pride themselves in, and it was meaningless.
Animals with clothes and accessories, walked in and out about the surroundings, pretending like nothing’s going on, their bored eyes and chilled grin, they were empty and futile, a constant diminutive in emotions, that solely fixed on their employment until they rot inside their coffins, regardless of age—young or old, the beautiful and the ugly.
The look on their soulless eyes pissed me off.
I don’t mind drilling the haughty nurses with a compacted drill, making holes, hear their screeching voices as I drilled further to their sensitive bones and skulls, bleed their pathetic organs and nerve pain to dry and have maggots infested, feasting, ants climbing in drilled holes, or hang them up by the wall as a decoration and plastered their severed their heads with deer heads my uncle hunted and collected in his previous years and preserved their heads in a freezer.
Holding back the initiative ideas reeling into me, I simmered down with a single breath, ragged, and my shoulder blades depleted, listening in more information, rather impatient, I decided to listen further, despite my imaginationhad gone wild, it took strength in me to not overdrive my bloodlust. I figured she needs several months recovery, and a medication—a psychiatrist and therapist to repair her psychologically.
“She needs to eat more. Her ribcage are protruding, and her joints are showing,” the doctor said, a voice of sympathy hinted. “How did she get those new injuries?”
My throat went dry.
“I found her on the staircase. She fell down with shattered artifacts she was trying to clean. She hasn’t got a break since this morning,” I lied.
I discarded Eva’s messy apparel and replaced it with spare clothes I bought at the back of my car. Sadly, I couldn’t gift Eva a generous reward at a proper timing. Why does it have to be now?
The doctor’s tongue clicked, rocking his head. “That can’t be good. Is she always this clumsy and reckless?”
“She is,” I lied again.
“Ah, poor girl. We’ll make sure she’s doing okay,” the doctor finally said.
But because he gave vital information of her recovery, I gladdened and spared the doctor from a killing spree and this goddamn hospital I wish to set on fire.
In a hospital bed, heart monitor beeping in protracted rhythm, red and green lines pattered in rough squiggled lines, her breath steadied, eyes closed, hands tucked and laid over her thin belly, in a white hospital gown.
My breath held in, grasping any notions of thought, within my consciousness, but I gathered none, a train of countless thoughts sped across my mind, solely focusing on what matters to me—disregarding my life and troubles and mishaps I’ve had with my perfectionist family, I’ve forgotten their faces the moment I sauntered in to see her.
Her fragile figure, like her limbs, feathers had been plucked.
Eva—my beautiful jade, my good angel, my sweet angel…mentally picturing the feathers on her back crumpled and blemished and imperfect in blood and fragmented pieces blown from a terrible fall.
The angel, who stormed her way across the murky shores and dark abyss, guarding and fighting with all her might, was lying down in peace, in tranquility, unknowing what fate may bring onto her.
This might be the first time she’s content at a high mattress—a high mattress wasn’t a queen or king sized cloudy bed, resting her whole body on a narrow-shaped hospital bed, no less. Eva deserved a million dollar worth of a bed mattress, with silky sheets and fluffed pillows, and lavender mist to spray on her pricey sheets for her to see good dreams, not on a hard-wooden floor within the cold, dark attic and famished—where I first saw her previous nights ago. I dreamt her living on a happier life, far more content than to what she has now.
And by doing so, I must take sacrifices and annihilate them to oblivion, one which it’d erase them, cease their names to exist or living in memory, and it’d cost my life, but I couldn’t care less. Scars and sacrifice, it won’t matter to me. Sometimes a bleeding heart earned more worth than a clean one.
Those fuckers got what they deserve. Setting up her up to a trap was the lowest thing anyone could’ve done, especially Emily. Eva, faced her demons alone, alone in a thick forest, no one was helping her, let alone rescuing her, alleviating her, broken and swelled in her bones and sickly flesh—my heart ached as it set in fury, the fury hadn’t reached into the highest for an electric implode.
She hated the dark, the shadows creeping in, just as she hated the cold, an unforgiving climate where it forced to laydown on the floor, using dusted curtains and unused costumes to shield her shivering body.
