VII. Living Nightmare

Background color
Font
Font size
Line height


"Been called a monster, called a demon, called a freak!
I'm not an idol, not an angel, not a saint!
I walk a l o n e, I always h a v e, I'm not     a s h a m e d!
I've always been a living nightmare from the cradle to the grave!"

Ruben didn't stop until he reached the haven of his room.

Shoving his weight against the door in a blind scurry he stumbled upon entering, slamming the door shut behind him and groping for something to stabilitate him. His numb fingers proved to be useless in such an attempt. He cursed softly and fell upon his bed, his chest heaving with each shuddering breath. His heart ached from the incessant pounding, corrupting the burned tissue protecting it with the same pain. Ruben's hand flew to the right side of his head and he winced, tragic images of the past flooding his vision. God, please. Not now..

He sucked in a breath and tried to steady his breathing. He couldn't succumb to an attack right now. He couldn't. He grit his teeth until his jaw ached. He wouldn't let this happen. The attack alone wasn't the worry. No, attacks were simply a gateway to another threat: seizures.

He climbed atop his mattress and assumed a position known to calm anxiety: a forward bend, mildly similar to a fetal position. A last resort of course, since such movement caused agony to his seared skin.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

His pulse began to slow. Ruben found himself crumpling into the covers of his bed. In this moment, he could only dream of what the soft, cushy blankets would feel like. He grabbed a portion and touched it to the left of his face, that one minuscule location of unscathed flesh left with a fleeting sense of touch. He caressed it to his cheek, slipping his eyes shut as he fought past the numbness to catch the faint feeling of the fuzzy material brushing against his cold skin.

He lay there for some time, the only sound in the room that of his slow, raspy breaths. The blanket slipped from his scorched fingers. He stood, trudging steps towards his nightstand. Grasping its edges for support, he leaned against it and stared at the mirror. The face that met him caused his heart to pool over with hate and disgust.

He fumbled to frantically unbutton his shirt and toss it to the floor. White bandages were beheld beneath it. With almost savage intent he began to rip them away, revealing with every tear a new space of blackened skin. It wasn't until he reached his head did he slow his frantic pace. Slowly, he unraveled his face like a mummy. Every unwind sent another wave of despair to his sinking heart. The flesh beneath was completely destroyed, left scabbed over and flaking after its years of failed attempts at healing.

He exposed the right side of his cranium, which had been replaced with a clear skull implant and surgically stitched into his head. The artificial skull was an experiment of his own doing, one he greatly regretted because of the aftermath. An act driven by his quest for knowledge, curiosity, and a way to stop the pain..

The result had only caused more.

His pink brain could be seen clearly through it, looking healthy despite the poisonous thoughts pulsing through it. He ran a finger down the crudely stitched flesh, which ended right before his nose bridge. He felt a sharp sting deep within his muscles, but didn't stop until he'd reached the scar's end.

He closed his eyes and tossed the remaining bandaging aside, heaving a deep sigh before he gazed disdainfully at his disfigured body. Disgusting. Hideous. Repulsive. Abominable.

His eyes peered into themselves, delving into their many hued silver depths. The eyes were a window to the soul, he'd often heard. Evidently, it was true. All he saw was pain, hatred, and agony, and that was all he felt.

He bowed his head into his hands. A sigh passed his charred lips, heavy with overwhelming repulsion. The anxiety had thankfully left him, but the reminder of his episode still haunted him.

Why don't you like to be hugged?

...

Ruben raised his head to glare back at his reflection, hatred blazing in his steel irises as he spat,

"Because I'm afraid."

Sophie didn't see Ruben the next day. Nor the next. Often she went looking for him, knocking on the hidden door and once even asking Dr. Jimenez where he could be. He answered by questioning why she wanted to know. She just shrugged and ran away.

Today's search, she hoped, would be more successful.

She slipped into a vacant seat next to Leslie with the cafeteria's special for the day: Salisbury steak. Because of her winning popularity with the lunch ladies, she'd managed to earn herself an extra roll, which she donated half of to Leslie. She knew how he loved them. He took it gratefully and stammered in thanks.

"Th-thank.. Y-y-..Sophie."

She smiled sweetly. They both ate in silence, timid and quiet compared to the other inhabitants of the cafeteria that chattered constantly. For a slim moment, everything was at peace.

A tray suddenly slammed to the table, just inches away from Sophie's. Leslie whimpered and stumbled away. She jumped and recoiled on instinct, trembling as she looked up at the assailant.

Jermaine Sandoval.

One of the more unstable residents of Beacon, Jermaine was known for starting fights. Whether they be verbal or physical, he gladly engaged in either. She wasn't sure of what his diagnosis was, but he was prone to violent outbursts. Despite lacking details, Sophie knew good and well to stay out of his way. Now that she was being confronted by him, she hadn't a clue of how to react.

His face was rigid and homely, his black hair unevenly cut short against his head. Faint stubble lined his chin and neck. His dark, nearly black, eyes sparked with challenge and anger. A nasty grin was presented to Sophie, only sparsely filled with yellowed teeth.

"Hey there, Sophie," he spat, "Enjoyin' yer lunch?"

Sophie smiled and nodded, despite his rough, gnarled growl. He wasn't too impressed.

"So, you're the devil's new favorite, eh?"

She tilted her head, innocence shining in her sapphire orbs. "Devil?"

"Dr. Victoriano," he barked, slamming his palms against the table. "He's taken a likin' to ya', huh? Treatin' ya better than the rest of us?"

She hesitated, realizing that he had indeed paid more attention to she than the others. She solemnly nodded. Wrong choice.

He loomed over her and yelled into her face, "Lucky little bitch," he hissed, face reddening in rage, "do you realize what that demon has done to me? To us? He's not a doctor. He's a monster!"

Ruben? No, he couldn't be talking about him. Sophie knew him. He was kind. Strange and quiet, but sweet to her. The only one here who was kind to her in fact. And he didn't hurt people! He helped them! At least, that's what he'd told her..

"But Mr. Ruben's nice.." She peeped.

"Nice? Hah! He's been lyin' to ya' hasn't he, sweetheart?" His hands bunched into fists. He was growing more aggressive every passing moment. "Do you know what he did? Do you know what he's done? That son of a-"

He froze suddenly, his gaping mouth melting into a scowl and eyes raising upwards from Sophie. Despite his attempts at looking fearsome, his fear of whatever lie behind her was evident. Her blood ran cold as she felt a familiar presence behind her. She whirled around to see Ruben, standing tall over her and staring straight through Jermaine. His face was unreadable as usual, but anger was evident in his pale eyes.

"Mr. Sandoval." He greeted.

"Satan."

Without another word, he stomped away, leaving Sophie and Ruben alone. A silent moment passed, as if everyone in the cafeteria had quieted at Ruben's presence. Sophie could hear his steady, raspy breathing just behind her.

"Hello, Ruben!"

"Hello."

"Why doesn't he like you?"

He was silent, his eyes ever watchful around him.

"He said you're not nice, but I don't believe him. You're nice to me!"

This brought his attention back to her. Whilst most would find themselves uncomfortable under his unsettling gaze, Sophie found herself beaming up at him. She swore that we saw the edge of his lips twitch slightly in response.

"Where were you yesterday? And the day before?"

"....Busy."

"Busy doing what?" She prodded jokingly.

Ruben narrowed his eyes, but in a more playful manner rather than aggravation. A strange occurrence that even he, himself, found unusual of him doing.

Sophie giggled and got out of her chair. "C'mon, let's go do something!"

"Like?"

"I dunno! Something!"

She reached for his hand, but realized her mistake and drew back with a soft 'sorry'. But instead of rejecting, Ruben extended his own hand to hers. It trembled slightly, fear coursing through his veins as he attempted physical touch. Sophie grinned and took it gently. He grew rigid, but gradually began to relax.

With Sophie tugging him along, they left the cafeteria together.



//Hey guys! Thanks so much for reading and don't forget to vote and/or leave a comment if you liked it! Any thoughts/questions/or comments in general are appreciated!

Hope you have a wonderful day and had an amazing Christmas! See you in the next chapter! :3\\

Song credit: "Cradle to the Grave" by Five Finger Death Punch

You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net