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One Word Writing | 33. — hide

Themost Heba could ever remember hiding, for long periods of time, waswhen he was a child. If he wasn’t hiding from Amara’s wrath, theanger and hateful words she would spew at him for messingup again, he was hiding from thedoctors. It was like a never ending routine. He’d known he had donesomething wrong, been caught doing it,and head home for the inevitable rage that would be a long lecturewith cruel words because Heba should be gratefulto her for having her take care of him for so long despite her age.

If hemanged to get home before her there was a chance he could hide, achance he could put offgetting in trouble—and even though he knew hiding always made heranger worse he couldn’t bring himself to not try.The terror that clouded his heart was to great to ignore and even ifit was just for ten minutes whileshe searched for him that was ten minuteshe could prepare himself for the things that she should say, theharsh words screamed at him.

Eventuallyhe did learn there was no point in hiding, she would always find him,but when he learned that was when he started going to the doctorsfar to often. Hiding was in his instincts at that point, and thoughthe first few visits weren’t to badthe more they couldn’t figure out what was wrong, the worse hegot—the more painfulthe drugs got until he hatedgoing to the doctor. Fearedthe pain that was inevitable from whatever they wanted to try thattime.

Henever bothered hiding from Amara, she would always findhim, he waited until they got tothe hospital and she looked away to sign him in—and then he wasgone. She would look away for a second and he’d take off down thehallway searching for a place to hide. He’d crawled into the ceilingbefore, hid in cupboards, crawled inside the bathroom of patience’srooms who were unconscious. He even hid in the morgue once and gavehimself frost bitebecause of how long it took to find him.

Butthey always found him.

Always.

Andevery time they found him he’d scream,cling to whatever he could grab, cryand beg to just gohome. He’d throw a fit so bad that he’d grab whatever elsehe could reach and use it as a weapon. The worse was when he grabbeda fork from a patience tray and stabbed aninnocent nurse in the arm with it.

Theydecided after that to sedate himeach time he had to come in. Amara was given these pills to give himto make him tired andhe’d only gain consciousness after they had already injected whateverdrug they wanted intohim for the day.

Whateverhorrifying drug he’d wake up to that set the inside of his body onfire.

Theyhad said it was an accident,an unexpected side effectof the trail drug. Heba was just a Guinea Pigfor whatever painful experimental drug they were inventing and Amaralet him be one. She said shewanted to help.

Wellwhy did the help have to hurt.

Haveto be terrifying.

Hewanted to be like every other little kid,play outside with the neighbors and wander around in the sandbuilding sand castles.But he couldn’t even do that. If he wasn’t hiding from whateverterrifying thing hehad to go through he was kept inside because he wasn’tright. What was right? What waswrong?

He wasa child.

He hadhopes and dreams.

Heliked art.

Wasn’tthat normal?

#levidusanimae #「▲」 ┅ ❝ ᶜʰᵃᵗᵗᶦⁿᵍ ʷᶦᵗʰ ᵈᵉᵃᵗʰ ; Answered Asks. ❞#「▲」 ┅ ❝ ᶜʰᵃᵒᵗᶦᶜ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ ; Drabble. ❞

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