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He jerked away.
The hurt look on her face was too much for him to bear. Sucking in a sharp breath, he barged past Mai with a mumbled excuse, pushing open the door and stumbling out.
It irked him it irked him it irks him—
The slapping of the soles of his shoes on the tiled floors echoed through the hollow corridor, drowning out the roar in his head, and Tobi was glad. Except—no, there was another set of footsteps, going the opposite way, coming right at him. They stopped. Tobi stopped. His vision refused to focus, giving him only a few glimpses of the person in front of him, but Monika’s wide, surprised eyes were clear as day. Her mouth opened. He knew what she would say.
“Tobi?”
So much concern dripped from such a simple question. It was disgusting, and not her fault. Ripping his gaze away from his friend, he kept running, ignoring the burn of her stare boring into his back.
His breath was coming in strangled gasps by the time he reached the opposite side of the underground facility. Nowhere else to escape, he let his knees buckle and crashed onto the ground in a heap, pressing himself into the corner. The concrete wall was cool against his scalp, firm and reassuring. Tobi hugged his knees to his chest, burying his face in his arms.
Why can’t they quit bothering him, mind their own business and leave him alone? Alone. He should not need care, he was supposed to be the one caring for them. He’s supposed to be, right?
Did they not believe in him?
So useless, he can’t even sum up the tears he would have liked to cry at the moment. He was a machine, lacking a heart and soul. Cold, to others and himself, the chill settling in his flesh. Or steel wires and gears.
Why was he so angry? Why was he mad they care about him?
Childish. Ungrateful.
The opposite of everything he wanted to be, that was all he ever was. He cannot seem to stop hurting people around him. Perhaps it was about time he left and suffered alone, like he was always meant to be, like how he originally was, when his brother left him. After all, who would keep a burden? Everyone will be better off, once they stopped hugging the cactus that was Tobi.
With a silent scream, he slammed the back of his head against the wall, his vision snapping black as if flipping a switch.
//
Someone was knocking on his door. Each rap of knuckles against wood sent a dull ache pounding through his skull. The knocks were insistent, nagging, begging for his attention. Tobi didn’t want to get up. He didn’t want to leave the protective four walls of this imaginary room, shielding him from sight. Besides, it was better if he stayed there, alone.
A shout pierced his head—someone called his name, the tone soft and sweet, oozing like honey. Resentment simmered in his gut. Why won’t they leave him alone? Curling tighter into himself, he squeezed his eyes shut and clamped his hands over his ears in some vain attempt to drown out the noise. Please just stop. His hands were shaking. No, his whole body was, bones rattling in time of the tremors. Why was he shaking? Heat pulsed in his temples. His mouth dropped open, the raged shriek he desperately wanted everyone to hear instead emerging in a feeble, pitiful, quivering cry.
Weak. Pathetic. Worthless. That must be what he looked like to everyone. That must be why he is not an equal to them, why they fuss over him like a mother bird. He was a newly hatched chick, his own eggshells cutting his pink skin, his lack of feathers making him shiver in the summer wind. Oh, but he would be alright, because his gentle mother bird would keep him alive.
Tobi curled his lip. Snapping his eyes open, he jumped out of the nest.
For a few moments, all he could see was a bright blur. Then the floor tilted. Then he was winded, and his eyelids slid shut.
//
Concussed, the doctor said. Dizziness, headaches. Don’t strain yourself. Don’t stand up fast, or risk passing out again. The words were floating away as they were spoken, and Tobi grasped at their wispy trails. Got it? The doctor asked. Yes, I have. Yes, I agree. No problem, miss. Thank you.
She laughed. Tapping the hood of one of the many machines beeping by his bedside, she told him to thank “his friend.” “Brought you to the hospital,” she said, “if not for your friend, you’d be much worse off.”
Yes, I agree. No problem, miss. He threw his head back against the wall, hard, harder. He was back in the nest. The nest was shredding under his crooked beak.
Thank you.