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Billy scrunched his eyes, his head pounding with such an ache, he thought it was going to fucking explode.
He wanted to rub his forehead, but his arms were heavy and his hands refused to move.
There was an annoying beeping, and he wanted to destroy whatever fucked up alarm clock was ringing out to him this early in the morning.
He forced his eyes open despite the pain, and was met with an unfamiliar ceiling.
It was white, with tiles separating the harsh fluorescent lights. And it most certainly was not his bedroom. He looked to his left, finding the source of the stupid beeping to be, not an alarm clock, but a black screen, a green line rising and falling with his heart rate.
It was elevated, the machine crying out for the nurses to check him out.
Because, he’s in the hospital.