I'm your Source of Self-Destruction.

[Deleted]

veins that pump with fear, sucking dark is clear
LEADING TO YOUR DEATH'S CONSTRUCTION.
taste me you will see, more is all you need

Valor didn't take kindly to company, so he did what he could to stay away from people. Maybe it was because he was used to the loneliness, maybe it because he felt he should be alone. He shouldn't have friends, he shouldn't have lovers, he wasn't worth it. He deserved the enemies he had and while he originally seen this island as a fresh start he wasn't sure that was what he was going to get. Addiction manifested him, ate him alive from the inside. He scratched at his jugular, nicking a scab that tore open, causing a little blood to trickle out of the freshly opened wound. He wiped at it with the collar of his stretched out shirt until it stopped. It left a little bit of a blood stain on his neck but if you looked, along all the dirt build up on his body there were traces of dried blood, scarring from needles, scarring from scratching and even a couple knife wounds and plenty of cigarette burns. Swift was the center of the classification 'hot mess' but it didn't bother him anymore. Perhaps somewhere deep, deep down he did care but mostly, the care was gone. He was something of a feral human, unable to adhere to societies laws. He defended the drug that consumed him, dismissed the logic of electricity, regular bathing and objected to standard dietary ideals.

Valor wasn't sure how to live without drugs but maybe it was time to learn? As the thought crossed his mind the insulin needle he'd prepared moments ago, poked through the skin in his neck, he wiggled it, hunting for his jugular vein using the reflective playground equipment as a mirror. With little effort, he found the vein and punctured it. Drawing back, the blood rolling into the barrel and a quick slam dropped the plunger down and sent the amber coloured poison shooting into his veins. He could taste it in the back of his throat as the rush attacked his body. Within moments he was barely coherent as he pulled the needle from his neck. Before he could recap the needle and stash it away, his eyes rolled back in his head as his pupils constricted, his heart slowed, his brain function was at a crawl, and his body slumped forward. His breathing was shallow and he was on the brink of what could have very well been, if he was lucky, his death. The mid-day sun beat down on his limp body, it took two hours before his consciousness returned. His lips had gone blue in the time he was unconscious, that was typical being that he'd nearly quit breathing. It was typical overdose, only he got what others would consider lucky, he lived, by the grace of whatever higher power was watching him, he lived. 

Valor groaned as he sat up, clutching the needle in his hand and shoving it in the backpack next to him. He rubbed his temples and sight. Overdose, it hadn't happened since, well the other day. Boston was his savior, the only real reason he stuck around and pulled through the night. They were brothers, not by blood or heritage but in the street those two things didn't matter, they were brothers in addiction, and more importantly, in survival. Swift looked up at the sun and clouds his brow furrowed as the sun hid behind the clouds. He looked cautiously, scanning the park for life when he noticed a life form there, not but a few feet from him and his spot just under a slide. As he watched the life form, he prepared to end up in some sort of conversation. As he prepared what was working of his brain for a conversation he nodded out, his body slumping over itself once more, face inches from the ground. Nodding was normal for someone on the opiates he was on, it was like being incredibly exhausted and nodding in and out of sleep only nodding here seemed to wipe most of Valor's short term memory.

It was another few hours before Valor actually came back physically. Mentally he was gone still, but taking his needle lined backpack he stood up and started walking. He wasn't sure how, but he ended up leaning on the counter in the lobby. He got barely a word out before he collapsed, smacking his head off the floor. this is it, lady h is winning. i'm dead, i'm fucking dead. if i'm not dead please let them kill me. no-no wait. help me. help! oh god please, please help me. His brain begged him to get up, he was mentally screaming, scratching at the inner walls of his mind. For once, Valor didn't want to die. Valor had come here for a reason and dying wasn't one of them.

tagged; OPEN || wordcount; 806! || lyrics; Metallica - Master of Puppets 

[Deleted]

"You'll be fine, the doctor will come and have a chat with you about your discharge paperwork, but I hope you know that you shouldn't have been drinking to that standard." It was almost like he had been doing the job for years on end, the things he had seen in the emergency department gave him an insight to life, an insight he had never dreamt he would have been able to get. People from all walks of life, young and old. The only thing he was grateful for was the fact he didn't work in paediatrics, there was a 100% chance he wouldn't have been able to keep his cool in a child abuse case. "Between me and you, I like to go out on a friday night if I'm not working, and I hit the bar hard, but I always make sure I know what I'm doing and what's going on around me. If you don't, that's when you become an easy target for attackers, like what happened to you." He finished off by saying to his patient, who wasn't much younger than him, probably in his early twenties, too, most likely a student at the university. With that, he turned his heel and strolled off to the nurses station, informing them that he was off for a break. The only issue with going for a break meant that he was going to go outside for a cigarette, which meant walking through the waiting room, which was absolutely full of people. After placing his jacket over his scrubs and grabbing his lighter and a smoke, he walked through the double doors through the corridor, and into the waiting room where he witnessed a young man stumbling towards the desk. Probably intoxicated. As per usual. Ryan shook his head and looked at the ground, as if to avoid the usual drunken chit chat that patients seem to think that nursing staff love, until he heard an almighty thud. His head shot up to see the patient laying on the ground, almost out cold. 



"Hello, can you hear me? My name is Ryan, I'm a nurse, open your eyes." He called into the patient's ears, with barely any response, at which point he resorted to shaking the patient slightly and performing a sternum rub, something which is quite painful that barely anyone can withhold pretending to be unconscious throughout. "Wonderful" He groaned to himself as he took his jacket off and placed the cigarette and lighter back in it, then his voice boomed, as if his intention was to shake the walls off of the hospital entirely. "I need some help in here! Bring a trolley and a crash kit!" Why now? Why couldn't this have happened in twenty minutes time when he wasn't supposed to be going for his first break in eight hours. It took seconds for a small team of people to arrive, which is when he realised he hadn't even done any sort of assessment, apart from 'this patient is barely responsive and is on something'. What a wonderful handover to give. "Have you taken something today?" He asked, trying to get the patient to respond to him in any way shape or form, even if it is only a nodding motion, or a head shake. 



{I hope you don't mind me hopping in.}

[Deleted]

taste me you will see,
MORE IS ALL YOU NEED,
dedicated to, how i'm killing you. 

Sunken in blue eyes, hollowed cheeks, flesh lacking human colour, drool seeping from his mouth as goosebumps crawled up his arms, the crack to the head was just another flesh wound for Valor. His face met the floor and he was pretty sure he cracked a rib or two when he landed on his side. His vision blurred for only a moment as a ringing took to his ears. He faded in and out of consciousness, unsure of the decision he'd made to save himself, unsure of his surroundings. don't just leave me here his mind begged as a male dropped to his level and hollered into his ears. Have you taken something today? Valor knew he was doing his job but the question was kind of silly in his eyes. He gave a half nod as the team with a crash cart and trolley arrived in what seemed like seconds to a fading Valor.

A lot of people knew him from Central Park, and more commonly he was called the bridge troll simply because he could be found under a foot bridge in the park but to those that took the time to talk to him, he was called Swift. Valor gave a quiet groan as his vision started to vignette to black on the sides, his tattooed and scarred hand reached for the nurse's hand as the moved him to the trolley. His icy, sweaty hand brushed Ryan's just before he was out of reach. The darkness that plagued his vision started to consume him. As his eyes rolled back into his head, his heart and pulse lay quiet. In that moment there was darkness and silence, and Valor unable to enjoy it. It finally happened, heroin won at least until modern medical technology sent electricity bolting through his body and finally, kick-starting his heart. For a moment, as he gasped for a breath, he was angry. He'd literally died and was at peace. Who were they to bring him back to this? It was then, after that thought, he remembered he'd walked into this wanting not to die.

Begging to live? That wasn't like him. What was wrong with him? He didn't think on it too long as the next thing he knew he was being carted off. The trolley ride wasn't fun, in fact, it was more nauseating than anything. He wished his darling Boston were here, Boston would help him, Boston would tell them when it was enough, when to let him go. Speaking of Boston, what was it he was supposed to tell them? What information was important? Boston had told him if he ever had to go to the hospital, there were three very important things he had to tell them. Oh man, what was he supposed to say? His mind raced to find the right words, as he remembered he gasped. I'm allergict' penicillin. while his words kind of blended into each other he was certain he was understood. addict was murmured as he watched the ceiling, lights looking as if they were rushing by him. He'd signed a death wish with that last word. After finding out he was consumed with heroin addiction, most medical staff ended up treating him like shit, rather than a person with a disease who needed help. More often than not he'd been mistreated in a hospital than he had been on the street. He felt his stomach lurch as he came to realisation that he would probably regret divulging that information.

tagged; @jackk || wordcount; 586! || lyrics; Metallica - Master of Puppets ||
Notes; No Problem! Thanks for joining!

[Deleted]

Was that a nod? Or a sign of consciousness fading? Ryan wasn't entirely sure, but he made the call, just to keep on the safe side. It didn't take long for him to make his next call. "CODE BLUE, LETS GET MOVING." He called out. Finally, a doctor. Almost a rarity in this hospital's emergency department. The defibrillator worked almost immediately, if there was a favourite kind of cardiac arrest, this was it. No CPR, no killing himself to bring back someone else, just plain, straight forward shocking the patient back into reality. Valor was quickly attached to the rest of the observation kit above the wall, which was reading off some incredible results, probably better than half of the staff's, but Ryan knew that it would quickly fade down a bit once the adrenaline had worn out of his system that was administered during the cardiac arrest. The boy looked quite young, and after doing a head to toe of his body, it was obvious that the young lad had overdosed. Maybe this would be the kick up the ass that the kid needed. "Welcome back." Ryan said, matter of factly, folding his jacket over his arm, fiddling with the cigarette and lighter subtly. He took pity on the boy, he didn't feel sorry for him, he pitied him. Such a young age to overdose at, he probably needed help. It had been known quite widely in the hospital that Ryan was that one nurse that would push patients to get the help they needed, he would either push them until they accepted it, or until they stormed out of the department in a huge rage. Either way, opened up a bed for a patient who needed it.


"So, mind telling me your name?" He asked, grabbing a pen out of his pocket. The whole entire 'have you got health insurance' bit was always left to the reception desk, as far as Ryan was concerned. He was always told in nursing school to treat people how you would want to be treated, but that always opened up a gateway for complaints. He would want to be given the cold hard blunt truth of everything, but other people would want to be eased into the truths, or not even told them at all. Something that always got to him about his job was the rate of complaints coming in these days, something that a lot of nurses seemed to worry about, but he always had the attitude that if he could justify his actions, then the patient had no reason to complain. "Well, being addicted to drugs probably isn't the best thing for you, but each to their own, and luckily for you, I can't seem to find any signs of infection, so there probably won't be any need for antibiotics, unless something shows up in a little while." He stated with a smile, time to play the nice guy. Valor had confirmed he was an addict, it's time to shine, probably the part he does best. "So, when did you take your list hit? I'm just trying to figure out if you're totally out of the danger zone, and when you're going to be craving the next one." Addicts. Once they got that craving, they needed it there and then, there was no waiting around for it. 

This whole situation brought back the memories of nursing school. It was his third placement in the whole entire course, and he was on triage, which is when a man on cocaine came in, collapsed into asystole, and no amount of CPR would bring the man back. Issue with asystole is no matter how many times a medical team shocked a patient, there was no way they would come back, their only hope was good, hard and fast cardiac compression. Something Ryan had learned hard, but quickly, if a patient's heart isn't fibrillating, the defibrillator will not work, which when educated, seemed only logical. Ryan perched himself on the end of the trolley, which was right by the desk of the resus and trauma room, the room which he almost called his second home. "So, how do you like your view? You can see us all doing mind numbing paperwork from here." Trying to lighten the mood was something that Ryan always had done, he couldn't stand the business like approach when it came to his patients. 

[Deleted]

Light became visible again, life was visible again. At twenty-seven, Valor had felt the cold reaches of death many times before. Each time it was scary, each time something or someone kept him alive. In his eyes he should have died years ago, the first overdose was an accident it was just a tiny bit too much for him. The chain of accidental overdoses started early. The times he thought he was tough enough to handle it, somewhere along the line though, they became intentional. Each time he'd gone for the depths of hell with a lethal dose, Boston usually willed him to stay. This time though, Boston hadn't been around. What was pushing him to live this time? The nurses Welcome Back comment went ignored, Valor knew all too well he wasn't welcome back into life. He'd be told how he should get help and how he should give up drugs and become a productive member of society, whatever that was.

Valor groaned, feeling the early sweat and stomach lurching of withdrawal setting in. Cold sweat started to bead on his skin as he sat up, had they narcan'd him? Most likely. Oh yeah they had, instant opiate blocker was the best way to save an opiate junkie's life or ruin their high. Valor gagged and scratched his arm, where old injection wounds lay raised, discoloured, visible and now red from scratching. "Name's Swift" He told the male nurse, who was certainly ready to get out of this hospital for at least a moment, Swift didn't blame him. Swift had been his name so long, he hardly remembered his legal name. Closing his eyes, he shook his head and sighed. "Valor Kingston" might as well right? Giving his legal name would break down so many walls he'd built around himself over the years.

The legal name would open the possibility of being reunited with his adoptive parents, he didn't want that but something told him this nurse wouldn't take Swift for an answer. "Can't find signs of infection?" Valor snorted, eyes locking with Ryan's. "Ya dinnit look very hard did ya?"He chuckled and shook his head. He'd been on the streets for eleven years and addicted to heroin for fourteen years, he'd tested positive many times for hepatitis c and with his sexual encounters and needle sharing, he wouldn't be surprised if something else showed up. While a desire to get clean may have a place in his mind still but he had no hope in fulfilling that desire. The only desire he ever counted on to be fulfilled was the desire to use again. At the sheer thought of a needle full of poison his mouth started to water, it wouldn't be incredibly too long before Valor started to get aggressive and violent. It happened every time he was in a sober state, the anger fueled aggression with the smallest of triggers. Over the years, his mind had melted to the point of no return. The amount of mental disorder in Valor was astonishing to most.

The slightly baby-faced twenty-seven year old looked like he had the disposition of an innocent little kitten and he did when he was high. "I don' keep time man, I look like I own a watch?" Valor scoffed, "I was in the park, fell out for a couple hours, took me maybe ten minutes to walk here? How long I been here?" Valor scratched his hands, his tone had gone quiet and soft. He felt sick, dirty and in that moment he felt an emotion he'd not felt in a long time, ashamed. "Someone administered Narcan? They do every time." He started to pick at scabs on his hands, refusing to look up at Ryan, refusing to speak louder than his shamed, quiet tone. "It's kinda a God send, Narcan, save lives makes ya sick as a dog though. Instant withdrawal."

In the nurse's attempt to lighten the mood, Valor cracked a weak smile. "Oh yeah they look like they're havin loads of fun. It's great." Valor went through constant mood changes but this shame feeling stuck, it hurt. Had he finally hit a new low?