Red
Title: Red
Author: keepthexfaith
POV: 1st; Frank's
Pairing:: None for this one.
Rating:: PG
Disclaimer:: Not real, don't sue kthx
Warning:: Language I think? This ones pretty tame.
Summary: “You’re not weird. We’re just all different.”
RED
I opened the bag of skittles and looked inside. I sighed disappointedly, there were a lot of red ones.
“You’re really weird.” A boy said to me offhandedly as I tipped the multi coloured sweets onto the desk, separating the red skittles from all the other colours.
When I was done I put the red ones in a small zip lock bag and put back into my pocket. I sorted the remaining sweets into colours. I then sorted the colours into alphabetical orders: green, orange, purple and yellow.
I looked around. I still felt uncomfortable. I turned back to the skittles on the desk. I separated the small piles into groups of three. I was half way through yellow when I realised I would not have enough to finish my groups of three. In fact, I would have one left over.
Growing angry, I threw all of the sweets onto the floor, standing on them and crushing them into the carpeted floor. I heard someone tell me to calm down.
“Don’t touch me.” I said calmly, despite my obvious rage.
“It’s okay. I wont hurt you. Just calm down.” I felt their hand on my arm. I heard someone in the background mutter, “Hello? Yes I think we need help. Ambulance.”
“Don’t touch me!” I screamed at the teacher, spinning round
I couldn’t breathe, my chest felt tight, constricted. As though someone was squeezing my chest. I felt myself being lifted off the floor. It was the teacher that had touched me earlier.
“Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me! DON’T TOUCH ME!” I screamed louder and louder, kicking my legs furiously, trying to escape the bigger man’s tight grip. I saw some men wearing green run into the room and felt a needle prick my arm. Then everything went black.
*
I opened my eyes. All I could see was white. I sat up suddenly. Where was I? My eyes were still a bit fuzzy.
“Mr. Iero?”
“Where am I? Who are you?”
“I’m Nurse Caulfield. You’re in Greenwood Hospital.”
“Why?”
“Because, apparently, you started to…” She took a moment to look at the clipboard at the end of my bed, “…display symptoms of psychotic behaviour.” She quoted off the page, before placing it back on the end of my bed.
“Did you touch me?” I asked nervously.
“No. Why?”
“Did anyone touch me while I was unconscious?”
“Yes, of course. They had to. Why?” She asked again.
“I need a shower. Now. Right now.” I said firmly, standing up and trying to get out of the door. She blocked the way, holding her hand out to me. I immediately shied away from her.
“Mr. Iero? Frank? What’s wrong with you?”
“I don’t know.” I cried, sliding down the wall and resting my head on my knees, my arms wrapped around my head and my body rocking slowly back and forth.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” I sobbed, “Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.” I repeated, almost trance-like. Nurse Caulfield walked you of the room and came back with two doctors.
”Son, we’re just going to help you back into the bed.”
“There’s something wrong. You can’t help me. Don’t touch me.”
“Son, we have to. You have to stay in the bed.”
“Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me.” I repeated, blocking them from my sight and hearing.
They went to lift me up and I started screaming, louder than before in the classroom.
I kicked my legs, catching one of them in the face. I felt the needle again and knew that they were going to touch me.
“Don’t touch me.” I heard myself whisper before everything faded away.
*
“Doctor, what’s wrong with him?”
“Well Mrs. Iero, we think that your son may have a mental disorder, but we can’t be sure what yet.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, do you notice your son sorting things a lot, maybe by colour, alphabetically or in piles of three?”
“Yes, but that’s just the way he is. He’s always been very tidy.”
“Okay, does he ever show an aversion to being touched?”
“Well, yes I guess. But he was bullied in primary school, couldn’t it be something to do with that?”
“It could, but I recommend that you send your son to a child psychiatrist. He will be given a proper diagnosis and will be able to be prescribed medication to calm the symptoms.”
“Thank you doctor.”
“Okay, well I have to go but I will make sure to send a nurse in to see how your son is doing soon.”
“Okay, bye.”
“Goodbye Mrs. Iero.”
My mum turned to me, tears forming in her eyes.
“Frank, are you awake?”
“Yes Mum.”
“Oh honey. I’m so sorry.” She said, throwing her arms around me. I hugged her back uncomfortably, patting her back awkwardly.
“Why are you sorry?” I asked her once she had let go, “It’s not your fault.”
“I’m sorry for you honey.”
“So you feel sorry for me?”
“No, that’s not what I-”
“Thanks mum. But I’m going back to sleep now. Bye.” I rolled over so my back was facing her.
“Bye.” She whispered as she walked out of the room
When the nurse came in with my food I sat up.
“Nurse Caulfield, am I weird?”
“How do you mean? Because we’re all a bit weird.”
“Well, is there something wrong with me? Something that makes me different?”
“Well, you look perfectly fine to me.” She smiled and patted my hand, as she left.
Just as she was about to shut the door, she turned back.
“You’re not weird. We’re just all different.”
Author: keepthexfaith
POV: 1st; Frank's
Pairing:: None for this one.
Rating:: PG
Disclaimer:: Not real, don't sue kthx
Warning:: Language I think? This ones pretty tame.
Summary: “You’re not weird. We’re just all different.”
RED
I opened the bag of skittles and looked inside. I sighed disappointedly, there were a lot of red ones.
“You’re really weird.” A boy said to me offhandedly as I tipped the multi coloured sweets onto the desk, separating the red skittles from all the other colours.
When I was done I put the red ones in a small zip lock bag and put back into my pocket. I sorted the remaining sweets into colours. I then sorted the colours into alphabetical orders: green, orange, purple and yellow.
I looked around. I still felt uncomfortable. I turned back to the skittles on the desk. I separated the small piles into groups of three. I was half way through yellow when I realised I would not have enough to finish my groups of three. In fact, I would have one left over.
Growing angry, I threw all of the sweets onto the floor, standing on them and crushing them into the carpeted floor. I heard someone tell me to calm down.
“Don’t touch me.” I said calmly, despite my obvious rage.
“It’s okay. I wont hurt you. Just calm down.” I felt their hand on my arm. I heard someone in the background mutter, “Hello? Yes I think we need help. Ambulance.”
“Don’t touch me!” I screamed at the teacher, spinning round
I couldn’t breathe, my chest felt tight, constricted. As though someone was squeezing my chest. I felt myself being lifted off the floor. It was the teacher that had touched me earlier.
“Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me! DON’T TOUCH ME!” I screamed louder and louder, kicking my legs furiously, trying to escape the bigger man’s tight grip. I saw some men wearing green run into the room and felt a needle prick my arm. Then everything went black.
*
I opened my eyes. All I could see was white. I sat up suddenly. Where was I? My eyes were still a bit fuzzy.
“Mr. Iero?”
“Where am I? Who are you?”
“I’m Nurse Caulfield. You’re in Greenwood Hospital.”
“Why?”
“Because, apparently, you started to…” She took a moment to look at the clipboard at the end of my bed, “…display symptoms of psychotic behaviour.” She quoted off the page, before placing it back on the end of my bed.
“Did you touch me?” I asked nervously.
“No. Why?”
“Did anyone touch me while I was unconscious?”
“Yes, of course. They had to. Why?” She asked again.
“I need a shower. Now. Right now.” I said firmly, standing up and trying to get out of the door. She blocked the way, holding her hand out to me. I immediately shied away from her.
“Mr. Iero? Frank? What’s wrong with you?”
“I don’t know.” I cried, sliding down the wall and resting my head on my knees, my arms wrapped around my head and my body rocking slowly back and forth.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” I sobbed, “Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.” I repeated, almost trance-like. Nurse Caulfield walked you of the room and came back with two doctors.
”Son, we’re just going to help you back into the bed.”
“There’s something wrong. You can’t help me. Don’t touch me.”
“Son, we have to. You have to stay in the bed.”
“Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me.” I repeated, blocking them from my sight and hearing.
They went to lift me up and I started screaming, louder than before in the classroom.
I kicked my legs, catching one of them in the face. I felt the needle again and knew that they were going to touch me.
“Don’t touch me.” I heard myself whisper before everything faded away.
*
“Doctor, what’s wrong with him?”
“Well Mrs. Iero, we think that your son may have a mental disorder, but we can’t be sure what yet.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, do you notice your son sorting things a lot, maybe by colour, alphabetically or in piles of three?”
“Yes, but that’s just the way he is. He’s always been very tidy.”
“Okay, does he ever show an aversion to being touched?”
“Well, yes I guess. But he was bullied in primary school, couldn’t it be something to do with that?”
“It could, but I recommend that you send your son to a child psychiatrist. He will be given a proper diagnosis and will be able to be prescribed medication to calm the symptoms.”
“Thank you doctor.”
“Okay, well I have to go but I will make sure to send a nurse in to see how your son is doing soon.”
“Okay, bye.”
“Goodbye Mrs. Iero.”
My mum turned to me, tears forming in her eyes.
“Frank, are you awake?”
“Yes Mum.”
“Oh honey. I’m so sorry.” She said, throwing her arms around me. I hugged her back uncomfortably, patting her back awkwardly.
“Why are you sorry?” I asked her once she had let go, “It’s not your fault.”
“I’m sorry for you honey.”
“So you feel sorry for me?”
“No, that’s not what I-”
“Thanks mum. But I’m going back to sleep now. Bye.” I rolled over so my back was facing her.
“Bye.” She whispered as she walked out of the room
When the nurse came in with my food I sat up.
“Nurse Caulfield, am I weird?”
“How do you mean? Because we’re all a bit weird.”
“Well, is there something wrong with me? Something that makes me different?”
“Well, you look perfectly fine to me.” She smiled and patted my hand, as she left.
Just as she was about to shut the door, she turned back.
“You’re not weird. We’re just all different.”