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The mysterious boy is found on the beach...

This is gonna be an everyday thing (for now) I have over half of the whole thing written and edited and ready to post!


He felt soft material beneath him and cocooning him. He heard birds chirping and leaves ruffling. He felt each shaky breath he took; his diaphragm inflating and deflating with each intake of air. He slowly opened his eyes; letting in an almost blinding light. A white tiled ceiling, which connected to white walls, where paintings full of bright colors hung. He squeezed his eyes shut, taking in a deep breath, which was shaky and uneven.

"You're awake! Thank god." A voice reached his ears.

He slowly opened his eyes again, letting the light, which seemed far too bright, enter his eyes. He slowly turned his head, letting his gaze land on the person who had spoken; a younger looking lady in light pink scrubs. The lady walked over to the bed, her light brown curls bouncing with each step. His eyes followed her as she stood next to the bed, grabbing a clip board that hung on the wall.

"So, how are you feeling?" She asked kindly, a knowing look in her misty grey eyes, which briefly glanced at him.

"I-I feel okay... I guess." He says, his voice uneven and shaky.

She gives him a pointed, yet soft, look. "Now Kurt." She says in a stern, almost motherly voice. "You were found on the beach at well past eleven passed out. Your heart was barely beating and you were on the verge of death due to malnutrition. That's not even mentioning the cuts on your wrists. Now, tell me how you really feel. No lying mister."

He just stared at her for a few seconds, his lips parted slightly, bewilderment in his eyes. "Numb." Was his answer.

"Numb?"

He nodded slowly. "I feel numb.... I just... I feel lost..."

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she glanced down at the clipboard, shaking her head slightly. "You're sixteen, correct?"

He nodded, wringing his fingers together.

"Did you live at home?"

He gave her a pained look. "I live with my uncle." His voice was uneven and quiet. "My-my parents died a year ago."

"Oh." Her voice grew softer. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

He just shrugged. "It doesn't matter...."

She frowned slightly. "When was the last time you've been in to see a doctor?"

He shrugged. "I can't remember."

"Not for a long time I take it?"

He nods. "Not since my parents..."

"Well, we'll have to have a full physical done and run some tests." She glances down at the clipboard again. "When was the last time you ate?"

He shrugged again. "I dunno. Weeks? Months? I'm honestly not sure." Was his shaky reply.

she wrote something down before those misty grey eyes were on him again. "Last time you cut?"

"The day I was on the beach."

"So yesterday." She commented, jotting something else down. "We tried contacting your emergency number, but didn't get an answer, should we call your uncle."

"He won't care. He's probably drunk or high." He commented off handedly.

"Okay, so anyone else I should contact."

He shook his head. "My uncle is the only family I have left, and no one else cares about me."

She sets the clipboard down, her misty grey eyes landing on him again. "I'm going to go talk with your doctor and have him come in here and meet with you shortly."

He just nodded as she left. He hadn't lied when he'd said he felt numb and lost. He always felt like that now. And he had ever since his parents had passed. He didn't blame his parents for his problems; he didn't have anyone to blame. He was just like this because he was, that's how he thought about it.

His gaze flew to the door as it opened, revealing an older guy with greying hair.

"Hello Kurt, I'm Doctor Harlent." He spoke, his voice deep and gentle. "Lauren has informed me of a few things." He cleared his throat as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Why don't you eat?" He questioned seriously.

He shrugged. "I'm never hungry."

"Do you know how much you weigh?"

He shook his head. "No.... And I honestly don't care."

"Do you see yourself as too big or not skinny enough?"

He shook his head again. "No, I don't care about that type of thing."

"Hmmm." He hummed thoughtfully. "I think you have a type of Anorexia Nervosa."

"What is that?"

"An eating disorder."

"Oh..."

"I'll explain more later." He said in his deep voice. "But for now we need to do a physical and such."

He groaned slightly. "Why do we have to do this?"

"We need to do this so we can have a better understanding of your physical state and to have an understanding of how we can help you."

"What if I don't want help?" He asked quietly, playing with the sheets on the bed.

"Hopefully we can change your mind." Was his answer as he stood up; fixing his shirt. "Now come along, let's go to my office for your physical."
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