Again — how was this ever a good idea?
Now sitting in the nurse's office, Leo rubbed his temple, pain gnawing behind his eyes. Across the room, Rudo lay unconscious on one of the beds, wrapped in so many bandages he looked like a mummy — minus the sarcophagus.
Leo leaned back in the squeaky metal chair, wincing. His head throbbed like a drum.
Am I the only one who thinks this is weird? he thought, glancing around the empty office. Shouldn't there be an actual nurse here? Like, someone trained to handle people with head trauma — or at least basic customer service skills?
He looked at Rudo. No response. Just snoring.
Great. I'm stuck babysitting a guy who probably has a concussion while my skull feels like it's hosting a punk-rock concert.
He rubbed his temples harder, foot tapping impatiently.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The silence stretched. The ticking clock on the wall only made it worse.
Then he stood abruptly, pacing across the room. "Holy shit, this headache is under my skin."
He stumbled toward a cabinet near the sink, yanking it open. Bottles of pills clattered as he rummaged through them.
"Yeah, yeah, I know," he muttered under his breath. "Probably shouldn't be raiding through the medicine stash. But desperate times, right?"
Pain pulsed sharper now — like glass shattering inside his skull.
Pssh! Pssh! Pssh!
He froze. The sound wasn't real, but it felt real — echoing inside his head, sharp and metallic.
"Shit!" Leo hissed, gripping the counter for balance. The world tilted sideways.
The sound didn't stop. It grew — overlapping, fracturing — as if someone was breaking glass right next to his ear again and again.
He dropped to his knees, pounding the floor.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
"DAMN IT—WHAT IS THIS PAIN?! I CAN'T—"
He slammed his fist one last time, gasping for air. Sweat dripped down his neck. His heart pounded in rhythm with the pounding in his skull.
"Focus," he muttered through clenched teeth. "Come on, get a hold of yourself—focus!"
His hand fumbled into his pocket and pulled something small and familiar: the chocolate milk box Mr. Kay had given him earlier.
He blinked through the pain, hearing the teacher's voice echo faintly in his head.
"Keep it. It'll calm you down when you need it. Best brand money can buy."
Calm me down, huh? Guess we're about to find out.
He tore the straw off the front, tried to stab it through the box — missed. Tried again. Missed.
"Damn it—go in!"
Finally, the straw slid in with a satisfying pop.
He didn't hesitate.
Gulp. Gulp. Gulp.
The cold, sweet taste filled his mouth. Against all logic, the pain began to dull. The stabbing turned into a hum.
What the hell… it's actually working?
The room swayed gently. His thoughts slowed.
Still hurts, but not like before…
He exhaled. The hum became softer, distant — almost like a whisper he couldn't quite catch.
Wait… is someone talking?
He blinked, trying to focus, but his vision was already blurring. The edges of the room darkened, melting into shadow.
I can't believe I'm relying on this suspicious milk from my goat-legged teacher. If he wanted to poison me, he could've done it earlier… right?
He tried to laugh, but his voice came out slurred.
At least… it tastes good…
The straw slipped from his lips as his fingers went limp.
Thud.
The milk box hit the floor first.
Then Leo followed.
The last thing he saw before his vision faded was Rudo's bandaged form twitch — just once — as if reacting to something unseen.