Work Text:
Jimmy
SERIES: MUNCHIES
By: Senyka
I can’t tell you what I feel most of the time. I don’t really feel anything, this world is like an open window that shows nothing but a static movie on the other side. I feel lost. Why is this place so big?
I’ve been sitting in the emergency room for a few hours now, Todd left a while ago to get us something to eat. So it’s just me and a handful of tired looking staff, an old couple sitting far off in the corner, a pregnant woman chewing on her hair and some dumb fucker with tattoos staring me down. I’m not a pussy so I stare back, he looks away after a while.
That’s what I thought, bitch.
I put my hands in my jacket, I wish Todd was here already, I hate waiting rooms. Glancing around, my eyes land on the nurse sitting behind the glass window, she’s typing away at her keyboard, listening to the asshole on the other side pour out his whole life’s history and why he needs to be here, talkin’ about how he feels like he’s going to beat his wife if she keeps going off on him. The woman doesn’t make any facial expression and my eyes trail down her neck to the gold rosary dangling between her breasts.
Her neck is freckled and her blonde hair is thinning, not really my type. I bet she’s probably some religious cunt who complains to her husband until he ends up coming to this place because he wants to beat her. My leg starts to shake, agitation washing over me. Why do people think they need to show what their religious beliefs are? Like who fucking cares, I’m not gonna treat you any better just because you’re wearing some dumbass T over your tits.
Fuck.
I pull out my phone, ‘Squeak’ hitting my eyes as soon as I swipe the lock-screen, ‘Hey, you almost here?’
The douche who was talking to the blonde bitch comes to sit just a couple seats down from me. I hate when people sit too close so I stand up and walk over to the vending machine by the bathrooms. I check my phone.
‘Yeah.’
Putting my phone back in my jacket, I head into the bathroom, the tile walls are covered in water stains and mysterious splotches, I try to avoid looking at them while going to the sink. I flip the handle up with the back of my wrist to rinse my hands. I hate this place, I hate this place, I hate this place. My reflection catches my eyes, I look tired.
My makeup’s been on for two days, when Todd found me- he said I hadn’t been coherent. The scratches on my face scared me, I know they’re mine but the longer I stare- the more I want to pretend they’re someone else’s. I don’t care who, just anyone but me. The urge to splash water in my face overcomes me, I start to furiously scrub at the wounds. Just fucking get off of me, get off, get off, get off, get off, get off….I look back up. My eyeshadow drips like caked mud across my cheeks, I scrub harder.
“Auhhg! Fuck!” I can feel the scratches getting raw under my palms. I’m shaking.
The door to the bathroom swings open, breaking me from my trance. Spinning to face him- I realize it’s the douche who was talking to the receptionist. We make eye contact for a second, I can see his confusion building, “Oh uh, didn’t know anyone was in here…”
What? Did you not see me walk in here after you sat right next to me? Fucking idiot. “Yeah, someone’s in here. I’m done though.” I manage, furiously ripping the paper towels out of the holder to dry my face before stepping in his direction.
I watch the panic set on his face as he tries to decide his next move, he doesn’t know whether to hold the door for me or back away so I yank the handle, causing his hand to jut forward. I shove my way past him,
“Sorry.” He says under his breath.
I eye him down.
His teeth are crooked, and the stubble across his face along with his stained, tan shirt tells me he hasn’t showered in a few days. Upon seeing this, a wave of body odor fills my nostrils- pungent and sour, like he’s been sitting in a soup of meat for a week.
It just pisses me off even more, my pace quickens back to my chair. Why do these animals think it’s acceptable to go anywhere when they know they look like complete shit? Like voluntarally go out? If you told me I was gonna be sitting here against my will all day and I had the choice, I would’ve at least made the effort to change fucking shirts.
Fuck dude, where are you Todd?
My phone’s cracked screen leaves tiny scrapes along the skin of my fingers. I was about to send another text when the sound of sliding doors caught my attention, Todd strolls in. He walks over to me, taking the seat closest to me. I think he can tell I'm agitated because when he sits down, his arm is flush against mine. He never touches anyone unless he thinks it’s necessary.
I don’t say anything because I need it.
“I gotcha strips.” He says, smiling. It makes me feel instantly better, “Thanks.” I respond with my own grin.
I’m so fucking hungry.
We eat quietly, watching the T.V. It’s playing some drama and the main actress looks like a baboon, with all her lip injections, fake tan and fucked up nose. Her fake ass hangs off under the skin of her muscle. Pointing this out to Todd, he laughs before giving his own inputs, “It’s funny that you notice that because I was just looking at her levitating breasts.” I look back to see the silicone filled skin, pulled against her chest in an unrealistic and almost uncanny way. “Gross haha.”
Another hour passes, picking at the stray fibers on my pants, Todd leans against me, playing with my other hand. I can tell when he’s bored because he does things he wouldn’t usually do.
“How do you always keep your hands so clean?”
He rubs his fingers across my palms, there’s no feeling in them, “I’m always so jealous. My nails make it look like someone smashed my hands with a hammer.” I laugh. He turns my hand over to mess with the red cuts along my knuckles. Most people who come to emergency rooms love to be covered in the filth they broke down over, it’s disgusting.
“I dunno, I just wash ‘em alot.”
“Hm.”
He puts my hand down on the armrest, “Did you talk to anyone while I was gone?”
“Yeah, they took my blood already.”
“That’s good at least.” Todd sits up to look around, “What do you want me to bring you? You think you’ll be in longer than a week?”
“Yeah, probably. Bring me my other jacket, I don’t wanna ruin this one if I gotta sleep in it. Actually just bring me all my old hoodies, it’s always cold as fuck here.”
“Okay, books?”
“Yeah, anything by Marx.” I sit back in my chair, crossing my arms, “Um, can you bring me my journal?”
“The red one?”
The overweight nurse who drew my blood earlier steps into the waiting room, she makes eye contact with me before smiling, “Jimmy?”
Unzipping my jacket, I stand- turning to Todd before slipping it off and handing it to him. “Yeah, the red one.”
He remains sitting but takes my jacket gently, drawing out the moment, “Okay. Call me when you get a chance.”
“I will.”
I follow the nurse into the backroom, the noise of machines and staff fills my ears. It’s all too familiar, I don’t look around anymore like I used to. The mystery of these halls no longer carry their charms, what was a white world of safety is now a net of frustration, these people can only care for so long. Once you’ve reached puberty, or stand taller than any of these fuckers, you’re no longer someone to care for, but to pity. I hate this world, I wish I was dead.
Why is this place so big?