You looked so broken lying in the perfectly made cot. A complex array of tubes tangled themselves down your throat, and pumped you full of life. Each rise of your chest was accompanied by the small hiss of a machine that whirred next to you. The IV’s pumped dark red blood into your system, all in a desperate attempt to keep you and the baby alive. It’s stupid how it happened really. A driver that didn’t look where he was going, and now here you were. You were so ugly, bruises capturing nearly every limb on your body, scrapes running down your face and knees. The words collapsed lung and broken femur still rung fresh in his mind. Yoongi couldn’t bear to look at it anymore, so he didn’t. He just left. With nowhere else to go he just walked home. Trudging through the cold air he felt a sense of guilt and emptiness that gripped him. But your accident was nothing more than that; a mere accident. Opening the door to your home, he was met with a disturbing sight. Nearly everything had been trashed, with ripped letters and pictures littering the floor of the main room. The kitchen was destroyed as well. A half cooked meal lay splattered over the floor, and chairs had been knocked over. The cabinets were opened and emptied, with all the food they ever owned laid out on the counter. Yoongi moved forward into the bedroom.
The bedroom was mostly clean, only a few of his dirty clothes lay scattered on the floor. The bathroom was a whole different story. The mirror was cracked, with writing scribbled all over the walls. Ugly. Ugly. Ugly. Ugly. The tub held more notes. He doesn’t love you. No one does. Just drown yourself. No one loves you. You are the burden. He ripped all the notes from the walls and threw them in the trash. No you didn’t really think like that. The burn of guilt rushed him. You were just fine last night. Right? He realized that he never knew how you felt. He never even bothered to ask. He sank to the floor as he made connections that he should have seen long ago. The brush, your nails, the smell, the meds. He just ignored it all. This really was his fault. You opened your eyes, and immediately felt the crushing impact of failure. The tubes in your mouth proved to you that you had failed. How where you supposed to explain this? If you had succeeded there would be nothing to explain. And yet here you were. A small woman passed by your vision, and soon she was right by your side.
“Hello there. I’m Uri. You are in the hospital right now. Don’t worry you are in good hands.” Her soft voice should be comforting, but all you felt was a deepening sadness. “The baby is going to be just fine. And so will you.” Hardened tears began rolling down your cheeks. The salty water stung as it glossed over the cuts that dominated the left side of your face. “Shhh. Don’t cry. You’re going to be okay. It’s all going to be okay.” She only made you sob harder. How were you supposed to explain that you didn’t want to be okay? How were you supposed to explain that you should be dead? The tube in your mouth made the decision for you, you couldn’t explain even if you wanted to. The nurse simply wiped your tears with a soft tissue before her pager let out a high pitched blaring peep. She stared down at her belt before frowning and turning back to you. “Ok honey, you should really rest more. I’ll be back later. Try to get some sleep.” She then turned and filed out of the room. You tried to lift your arms and pull the IVs out of your arms, pull the tubes out of your throat. Do it all so they can’t save you. But your arms don’t lift, and you are left limp on the cot. You’re useless. Just like always.
Credit to official4nr The next parts are going to be longer @DestinaByrd@TracyLynnn@sarahdarwish@torchix@TaehyungKey@Valeria816