Hospital

Sebastian has lived only one life, sounds stupid, I know, you know.

But Sebastian has only experienced the trajectory once.

From his unique perspective, 'traumatized people are overwhelmed by the past' was a statement mostly false.

Following that premise, when he looked around, a special connection was created with the rest of the survivors.

'What it's going to be for us in the future?' Every eye contact was a conversation.

The past is simple, a linear story, but the future? It had too much information: the expectations, the realities, the wishes, the inevitable, what happens every day, what suddenly stops happening every day, some unexpected returns, the things you prayed for to not happen, those surprise elements… it was too much to handle.

Imagining how things are going to be just tomorrow is much harder than remembering all the moments you lived the last year, especially when the present had become so twisted and abnormal for him.

His daily life usually includes his parents making breakfast and Eva bothering him with small things.

That has been his whole sixteen years of life. Taking them away was like starting from zero.

Sebastian was found 'sitting alone' among plenty of people, people who were in their own worlds.

Since the way back, these survivors haven't talked much, except for some few that asked 'can you lend me your phone?', the rest remained in silence.

And no one blamed them, there were too much information they had to process. Sitting in the hard chairs of the hospital, most of them needed more a psychologist than a doctor.

"Sebastian!"

"???"

Hearing his name, the boy turned his head, stunned.

Because he couldn't understand who else in this place knew who he was.

For his surprise, it was a familiar face, the only non-stranger he has seen all night.

That person in question was no other than his uncle but also chemistry teacher, Thomas Bercic.

"Sebas, are you okay!" No sooner had he arrived in front, the man wasted no time hug the boy, his chin was placed over his shoulder firmly. "it's alright, I'm still here. You still have me, and your grandpa and grandma, everything is going to be fine."

"It's alright." He comforted again as he didn't hear a word back.

But the teenager had no reaction. He had cried, screamed, yelled, punched, kicked, and even killed too many times this night already. And all that demonstrated that nothing is going to come back, to be like before.

He had to accept it.

"Don't worry, I'm fine." The teenager marginally pushed his uncle away.

Then sighed.

Looking at the concerned expression of Thomas, he knew he was the responsible and therefore he needed to do something.

So he smiled.

Except this was not an ordinary situation where a smirk could lift a person's spirits.

It was felt like a stab on the hearth by Thomas, even more painful to watch than the previous poker face. No one smiles when their entire family is killed.

But despite that, he didn't know what to say either. After all, a sick person cannot cure another sick person.

So, he changed the focus on attending emotional wounds to physical lesions. Which was ironic, maybe he forgot this was a hospital. If there is a person who needs to be in charge of Sebastian's health, it wouldn't be him.

After checking that Sebastian didn't have a scratch on him, the uncle went to talk to a nurse.

…

"Sir, before we discharge him, we need to run full tests." The nurse rejected Thomas's proposal.

"And how long is that going to take?"

"For the moment, you need to understand that half of the patience from the accident was transferred to here. It's night, and our hospital already lacks personnel, not to mention equipment. Your nephew is not at the most top of the priority list, he is not in-"

"But he's already tired, can't you at least provide him a bed?"

The nurse shook her head.

She didn't even have to say a word to imply that it was full.

"Stop it, uncle Tom, they only follow the protocol."

Sebastian who entered the room later stopped his uncle from making a fuss.

"You don't know what they passed through."

"…these victims." He added.

The nurse observed the teenager with accord. Patients with common sense were hard to encounter these days. And composure was hard to regain in places like hospitals: the nervousness of dying or witnessing deaths of others, adding the traumatic incident this boy was in…

The most fragile humans might not be able to talk for days…

But this kid was calmed.

So the nurse observed him longer.

Thomas kept silent for few seconds too, not because he was convinced by his logic, but because the last sentence made him realize that he hasn't really asked his nephew what had happened in that camping forest.

Which should be much more relevant than a fucking bed, Sebastian needed someone to listen.

The thought clouded his mind.

…

Uncle and nephew walked away, before exiting the room, another family of a patient appeared before the nurse— basically the same story as Thomas, but they were asking if the patient could rest in their car. To which the nurse patiently responded that if something happens to the patient outside of their installations, it won't be the hospital's responsibility.

After that interlude, the Bercics found an empty place to sit, unpreventably smelling together the intense odor of medical alcohol and chlorine-based cleaning products.

As they saw white coats walking in and for, with empty or loaded stretchers, Thomas showed his concern.

"Sebastian, if you want, you know you can…"

"I'm tired." The boy interrupted, applying the same explanation the grown man used in a conversation before with the nurse. Then he rest his head on the man's shoulder and closed his eyes.

Thomas put a stop to his intended questions as he leaned his body to one side so that the teenager could be in a more comfortable position. He stayed on his side, unable to find answers by asking other survivors, nor make a noise, which might wake his nephew up.

His only action was quietly pulling out his phone and, with it, taking a picture of Sebastian. He then sent it to the family group chat.

'He's fine' The man texted with tears in his eyes.

In the picture from an odd angle, there was a teenager with a dusty face, wearing an oversized shirt with dried bloodstains. The back of his hair had a concerning crimson shade, but at least, his sleep was peaceful.