The door. The only thing separating me from what little dignity I had left. Or maybe, the only thing separating me from a truth I couldn't bear to face. The truth that even they would leave.

Hospital rooms are designed to be sterile, I guess. Emotionally, too. The white walls mocked my grey mood, the low hum of the machines a symphony of my failing body. Sunlight, a fleeting visitor today, sliced through the gap in the curtains, painting a weak stripe on the linoleum floor. It was a cold, impersonal stage for the unraveling that was about to happen.

My throat felt like sandpaper. I hadn't swallowed much besides p1lls and regret for days. My eyes, they were just empty sockets now, reflecting nothing but the endless loop of fire and screams that played behind my eyelids. I hadn’t looked down today. Couldn’t. The phantom ache was bad enough without visually confirming the void where my legs used to be.

Then the door creaked open.

No. Not now. Not like this.

I’d played this scene a thousand times in my head. Each time, I was the stoic soldier, cracking a wry smile, deflecting the pity with a dark joke. Yeah, lost a few parts, but still combat-ready… sort of. But the words, they choked in my throat, trapped behind the swollen wall of pride and shame. The practiced lines were useless against the raw, gaping wound of reality.

I had to speak first. Had to break the silence before it shattered me completely.

"Don't… don't look at me like that." My voice was a rasp, barely audible, strangled by the pressure in my chest. Shame coiled around me, a living thing.

They froze. Just inside the doorway, caught between stepping forward and retreating into the normalcy they deserved. Their hands, I saw it in the subtle twitch, battled between instinct and fear. I didn’t blame them. Not one godd4mn bit.

I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror. So why should they be subjected to this? This… broken thing.

A laugh, bitter and hollow, escaped my lips. "Guess I’m not what you signed up for, huh?" I gestured, a pathetic, weak movement, towards the blanket draped over the… absence, the nothingness. "Discount soldier. Some assembly required."

They didn't speak. Not yet. They just walked in. Slow, deliberate steps, like the air itself was unsure it could bear the weight of what stood broken between us. Each step was a hammer blow against my resolve.

I couldn't meet their eyes. Not now. Couldn't bear to see the flicker of… what? Disgust? Pity? Disappointment? Any of it would crush me.

"You don’t have to stay," I muttered, staring at some imaginary speck on the wall. "I wouldn’t blame you if you walked out. H3ll, I expect you to. Everybody leaves. That’s what people do." The words were a shield, pathetic and flimsy as it was. A pre-emptive strike against the inevitable. Better to push them away than to watch them go. But each syllable tasted like ash in my mouth, a confession of my deepest fear - that I was unlovable, disposable... ruined.