WHO: Memphis and Storm WHEN: May 4th WHERE: Hospital WHAT: Storm found out Memphis got himself hurt and goes to visit. RATING: TBD. Likely low with a high chance of emo. OPEN: Not this time, sorry!
Memphis couldn't accurately describe the way he was feeling now. Hell, he couldn't accurately describe the way he'd been feeling for the past several weeks. After everything that had happened with Storm, he'd kind of had a breakdown. Not that he would admit that to anyone, but he felt like something inside of him had snapped when she'd left instead of returning his words. That feeling was only made worse by the expression on her face when she came back later that night while he was with Mindy, and he'd felt even more of himself slip away when she left a second time. He didn't know what to say or do to make things better, and was pretty much convinced there was no way to make it better. Did Storm even want him anymore before she'd come back? Her words suggested otherwise, and the thought made Memphis' heart clench in ways he hadn't realized could be physically painful until now. Depression had taken its hold on him for the first couple weeks, during which his siblings and best friend had managed to get the reasoning behind this sudden change in behavior out of him, but he quickly pushed past that stage and straight into self-destructive behavior. He'd always been reckless before, but things turned up several notches ever since he figured he had nothing really to lose anymore.
That mentality was idiotic, of course, given his band and his family and his friends, but logic was no longer steering the ship that was Memphis. He'd checked himself out of reality in many ways, only really able to feel something other than pain when he was taking ultimate risks. The adrenaline helped with the pain, helped with the emptiness, and it gave himself something else to focus on besides his overwhelming failure. Storm's letter had only compounded the pain and grief he was feeling; only worsened the guilt that had begun to take over. He was too blind to see the obvious; too wrapped up in his guilt and anger and pity to realize Storm was his forever. His one. The one who all those sappy phoenix stories talked about. The one that would complete him and be like another part of himself if he could just let things go the way they'd started. Memphis had never believed in the hype, seeing as he was half merman and not exactly a romantic, but she had changed all that before she'd ripped his heart out and stepped on it. Did that excuse what he did after? Not at all, but it was the only explanation Memphis could give. He was past the point of explaining himself, however. He just wanted to forget. He wanted nothing at all anymore, and that was a dangerous way to feel. Ultimately, it had also landed him in a hospital bed. Alone.
One of his stunts had taken on extreme measures when Memphis lost all reason and will to preserve himself. He'd challenged a friend to a game of chicken, only this game had a twist. They were to have the cars come at each other on a dangerous two-lane mountain road, and they were both going to see who could stay atop their car longer without falling or their driver backing out. The downside came when Memphis' driver had lost his nerve and swerved to avoid the other car, just as they were coming around one of the tighter turns. He had tumbled off the roof, his perfect surfboard-inspired balance lost as the force of the turn earned them a head-on collision with the bordering cliff face. Memphis had flown off, his body thrown into the sharp rocks with violent speed, before rolling underneath the still flipping vehicle. Everything had gone dark after that, and he'd woken up in the most extreme agony he'd ever felt in his life. The doctors had informed him that he was very lucky to be alive, though Memphis questioned the truth of that statement given the pain he was in. A list of injuries was explained to him, including a severe concussion, shattered left hand and shoulder, broken ribs, fractured knee, and a host of internal stuff he didn't fully understand. What he focused on was not the pain radiating over every inch of him, nor was it the bruising and scraps all over his face and arms. No, his greatest concern was his hand. Being left-handed, Memphis played the guitar with his dominant hand. If it was shattered.....his mind halted, shying away from the thought quickly. The doctor seemed optimistic of his fully recovery, but there was always a chance. Any chance that he'd not be able to do what he loved anymore was one too many for the halfbreed. He couldn't full comprehend it, and the magnitude of what he'd done had settled him into a shocked state of numbness. He couldn't even fixate on anything else, and ordered his secret service staff to keep everyone away. They weren't to tell anyone what happened. Memphis didn't want anyone to know that he'd potentially lost the one thing that he'd ever been good at in his life.
The next couple days were extremely lonely, and Memphis didn't even look up as his siblings came by to visit. What could he say to them? That he'd rather he had died than have this crippling chance of never being himself again? They surely wouldn't like hearing that, so he simply said nothing at all. It was on the end of his second day after waking up that he found himself staring off into the blank nothingness of the walls surrounding him, letting his thoughts play over everything again and again. People were kidnapped and attacked all over school, he'd lost the only girl he'd ever loved, and he'd possibly lost the only thing he loved to do. Memphis didn't see much point anymore, and it was a dangerous path of thinking for someone like him; someone who wasn't afraid to do what needed to be done no matter the cost.