The smell of the hospital was the worst smell in the world. This was the opinion of one Bartiel Schwarz Onyx. The smell of disinfectants overwealmed the senses, disoriented the mind and generally fouled up the young man's mood. But perhaps his mood was less fouled by the disinfectant scent which covered up the scent of people and everything else, and perhaps he was more irritated about what the hospital represented. The meaning of the hospital was, after all, to fix something that went wrong, to repair a person who has become broken or damaged.
But if people didn't become damaged, then there would be no need for the hospital.
"I'm here to see Lilith Smith," he said politely to the receptionist who looked at him with dull eyes. He hated that receptionist. She didn't do anything wrong, but the fact that he had to go through her to see his Lilith had him incensed. Looking at the computer and typing a few things in, slow keystrokes which didn't seem to have any sense of urgency, she nodded. "Room-" "223. I'm aware," was all he said, cutting her off. Bartiel had been disallowed from seeing Lilith. After her rape, she reacted...negatively whenever a man came in; when a man from school came in before he was able to visit the hospital, whenever a male doctor or orderly came in, leaving her with a full-female staff, as they were the only ones who were able to treat him. At least he heard her father had been able to visit her.
So when her father called him up and said that Lilith asked him to come to the hospital...Bartiel had dressed up. A simple, gray formal jacket in chinese style, with a pair of simple, loosefitting white pants with a pair of low-key black indoor shoes, he decided to dress well, but simply. The dark, muted colors contrasted with his own form; bright red hair pulled back in a short ponytail, bright green eyes(with a slight asian shaping to them) which had a pair of thin, metal-framed glasses covering them, allowing him to see. He stood tall, at six feet and one inch, and stood with perfect posture as he stepped forward. Living in a theater which one's mother converted into a dance studio with an apartment instead of an attic made it fairly obvious that he had spent a lot of time practicing with his dance instructor matriarch.
Looking up at room 223, Bartiel braced himself. He heard that Lucille had been threatened with a gun, and that she had been raped in turn by five different men in a short period of maybe an hour. They hadn't used knives nor intentionally beat her bloody but they had slapped and punched her. It had been several days, so by now the bruises might have faded, but he couldn't be sure. Holding onto the doorknob, his firm jawline was clinched, pausing. Truthfully, he was scared of what he had seen. He was more than scared of what he had seen, he was ashamed.
She'd walked home alone at night because he wanted to continue helping his mom teach a lesson on waltz. If he had just gone with her... it was his fault. He knew it. He knew how much Lilith was sought after; her self-proclaimed lack of interest in men or women had made her a prize to be won around school. A prize protected by a freckle-faced quarter-asian irishman who solved threats to Lilith with liberal application of violence.
Steeling up his courage, Bartiel enterred the room, stepping inside. It was a little warmer inside; though the hospital had been warmed to keep the chill of winter from getting too bad, it was even warmer for Lilith's comfort. Instantly, smells flooded Bartiel's senses. He was very scent-focused, being legally blind without his glasses and having subpar(Though far from deaf) hearing. The main smell that he could detect was the smell of the many flowers brought in, the fragrances almost making the disinfectant-scent headache a little worse. Stepping inside, he was also able to pick out Lilith's personal scent, a scent he'd learned to pick out in a crowd after knowing her for ten years and being madly in love with her for four(That fact being something he hid from her due to her lack of interest).
The third scent he picked up was...well, it was a sort of bitter, almost sour scent. It was hard to tell, being so faint, but it smelled sort of like a woman's cum. Deciding he was just imagining the scent, he approached Lilith's hospital bed, giving the weakest of smiles. "...I'm sorry," he said, first thing, his throat suddenly feeling dry. Would she forgive him?
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