Pain

Johannes slammed his fist into the wall, immediately feeling the burst of pain sear through his hand as the skin of his knuckles tore. Uncaring for the pain, he swung again and again, each blow on the wall leaving another pair of bloody marks. When he had lost track of how many times he had hit the wall, he slammed his head against it and came to a stop, both hands curled into fists and resting against the uneven surface. He could feel the heat of his blood flowing down the back of his hand, as well as some that was starting to flow from under his hair.

"Johannes, please, you must relax..." came a concerned voice from behind him. His arm shot back, pointing in the voices direction, which responded with a small cry that Johannes assumed must have come from the blood leaping from his wounds.

"Don't tell me what I have to do!" he shouted, his voice rough from use. He had been screaming in frustration, unable to find the words to express just how angry he was, but trying to find them all the same. He ripped himself away from the wall and turned to the voice, which came from the nurse who had been trying to look him over. "Do you understand what it feels like to have your life ripped from your hands?" he demanded. "Do you know what it feels like to have everything you know and love taken away? I may as well give up! There is nothing left for me!"

The nurse looked back at him, her eyes are cross between concern and anger. "Johannes, I need you to sit down," she tried to say firmly, though her voice was warped by worry. "I need you to calm down so I can try to administer care."

"What's the point?" he cried out. He wiped his hair out of his eyes, and saw the blood trail left behind on his hand as he brought it back down. The pain had quickly become numb, but his body was not so quick to adjust as his nerves were. Blood was pouring out from his knuckles and forehead, but he was too angry to recognize that if he did not do something soon, he would likely become light headed. "I didn't ask you to help me, you know! For all you know, I don't want to be aided. Maybe I just want to let my wounds fester so I can die and be done with this shit."

The look of terrified pain on the nurse's face was evident. Were this any other day, it likely would have immediately drained the argument and energy from Johannes. But the pain in his heart was too much to bear. The only thing keeping him on his feet was his blind rage, and it would take much more than a sad face to knock him out of it.

"Johannes..." came the nurse's voice once more. He glared down at her, her body appearing to retreat back into itself. "Would this be what she wanted of you?"

Her words hit Johannes like a brick. His knees crumpled beneath him, the air rushed from his lungs, and he collapsed to the ground, a miserable pile of tired limbs. His eyes burned as tears began to form.

Slowly she walked towards him as he silently sobbed. She kneeled in front of him, her face now flat, not wanting to betray what she was feeling. "I'm sorry, Johannes," she whispered. "I know this is hard for you. But you can't be like this. She would have wanted better of you."

Johannes could do nothing but quietly nod in agreement as he fought to stifle back the tears.