Myocardium

All the way until I'm back at home and under the freezing cold water of the shower, desperately attempting to regain full sense of my limbs again, my brows remain furrowed, as if the expression is frozen on my face entirely. 

For fuck's sake. 

Come on, why the hell would I say something against him in court? 

I mean, how could I? It's not exactly like I have any bragging rights when it comes to legal matters. 

First of all, I know how important his job is. There is no need for me to make life hard for a literal lifesaver. I get it, I'm no saint and some might even deprive my humanity altogether, but I do still have some sort of conscious morals. I might not be a good person, but I don't do harm to others to gain status or money. 

And if someone were to ask me, I believe deception should be a crime in and of itself, valuables at stake or not. 

Second, I would never start any argument in court when I know that I'm still my siblings' caretaker. 

Can't he just understand that I need my job to save lives too? Sure, it's not comparable to a doctor's profession, but my siblings also have the right to have their lives saved. Even if it's just by some loathsome prostitute. 

This entire situation is making me incredibly furious, and confused, and scared, especially of him. 

What am I supposed to do next? 

There is nobody out there who I can trust with this matter. 

Who knows, maybe he's already ratted me out. 

Maybe in a minute or two, some goddamn SWAT-team will show up and arrest me.

Any second now. 

One. 

Two. 

Three. 

Nothing. 

And the fear only repeats itself, manifesting as a suffocating knot in my throat. 

A hitched gasp escapes my lungs as I try to take a deep, calming breath. 

My siblings' presence make it a bit better, they distract me a bit. I need them, they need me. For them, I'll be strong and push through until I find my way, whatever that might be. 

The words that keep playing on repeat in my head as I am sitting tensely behind the steering wheel on my way to campus make me feel even more on edge, remembering what he's demanding me to do. 

I told him I'll figure something out. 

What the hell is there even for me to figure out?

What has been making me dread the entire day from the second the clock struck midnight is the fact that I'll need to attend a session with him first thing in the morning, before physics and maths. 

Another sigh, quiet affirmations I hopelessly whisper to myself. 

"Whatever."

At this point, anything other than hoping he won't do something irrational is beyond my power anyway. My mind is so damn tired from all the overthinking and so is my body. The fact that the drugs haven't fully worn off yet doesn't exactly enhance my fundamentally amazing condition either. 

"Good morning," with these words spoken so enthusiastically, he enters the room and gently lets the door fall shut behind him, making everyone look up from their phones or books. Every now and then, his eyes meet mine. In my deepest depths, something makes me feel this strange urge to talk to him again and ask for his advice, despite how terribly mercilessly he treated me last night.