[from here (http://damned.livejournal.com/1138711.html?thread=79249687#t79249687)]
This place seemed so innocuous. It was disgusting. The beds all lined up along the walls, the fake sky painted upon the ceiling. Everything meant to look nice and clean when Okita knew the sight of a sick room anywhere. This was just a place to put the invalids, to give them a false sense of freedom by allowing them to see a sky they may never really see again. Cruelty was what this place was. Cruelty and hope mixed together until they were inseparable.
At the end of the room was his hope: a table littered with syringes and pills and vials that reminded him far too much of a clear box and a single bottle with a fluid that had a mint aftertaste. He cringed mentally at the memory of that taste, recalling it with startling clarity now that he was faced with that very same choice. He had to take a drug that could kill him in order to save someone. Hopefully it could save two people and then he could disappear again, back into ignorance and bliss.
He had to move quickly then. Hijikata was a smart man and he had to be on his way back to the hallway already. Rushing forward, Okita searched the table quickly and found one vial that was suspiciously familiar. He uncapped it and sniffed - almost the same fragrance as before, but with a sharper edge, a bitter one. This was it then. This was his one hope. Either it would cure him or it would make him worse; and not much could make him worse than he already was. His heart hammered in his chest as he looked at the vial, but in the end he closed his eyes, tipped it back and drank most of it down.
no subject
This place seemed so innocuous. It was disgusting. The beds all lined up along the walls, the fake sky painted upon the ceiling. Everything meant to look nice and clean when Okita knew the sight of a sick room anywhere. This was just a place to put the invalids, to give them a false sense of freedom by allowing them to see a sky they may never really see again. Cruelty was what this place was. Cruelty and hope mixed together until they were inseparable.
At the end of the room was his hope: a table littered with syringes and pills and vials that reminded him far too much of a clear box and a single bottle with a fluid that had a mint aftertaste. He cringed mentally at the memory of that taste, recalling it with startling clarity now that he was faced with that very same choice. He had to take a drug that could kill him in order to save someone. Hopefully it could save two people and then he could disappear again, back into ignorance and bliss.
He had to move quickly then. Hijikata was a smart man and he had to be on his way back to the hallway already. Rushing forward, Okita searched the table quickly and found one vial that was suspiciously familiar. He uncapped it and sniffed - almost the same fragrance as before, but with a sharper edge, a bitter one. This was it then. This was his one hope. Either it would cure him or it would make him worse; and not much could make him worse than he already was. His heart hammered in his chest as he looked at the vial, but in the end he closed his eyes, tipped it back and drank most of it down.