Error's POV

I walked through the halls of my work. Molly panted slightly as she followed at my side, seeming the have remembered the twists and turns of the hospital.

  The temperature in the building made me slightly shiver. My scrubs weren't exactly made for the freezing cold. The steam from my coffee was about the only thing that provided me warmth.

  A few paces from my desk, was the door that led to Ink's room. He was being kept here one more day for checkups over the injures covering his body.

  I pushed the heavy door open, seeing the patient that I was secretly in love with.

Ink was wide awake with no emotion showing. He was staring out the window but it was a blank stare, not being directed at anything particular.

  There were handcuffs restraining him from accidentally hurting himself. The flashbacks that he constantly had made him fearful and aggressive towards possible threats. I understood that on a... personal level.

  The sound of the metal door closing caused Ink to put his attention on me. His dull white eyes never left me as if he was uncertain of what I was going to do.

Me: It's okay, Ink. I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to check the injuries that you have.

I motioned slowly and spoke calmly, trying to keep him from mentally going over the edge.

He broke attention from me as he turned his head to the window. His fingers were fidgeting with each other restlessly. I approached the bed however he instantly stared back at me.

Ink's white eyes shut as his hands went up in a protective behavior, shielding him from whatever pain might come to him. His hands tried to pull away from each other but the handcuffs prevented this.

My soul broke when I saw the fear that Ink had. The expression on my face wavered to almost show a look of sadness.

My mouth released a quiet sigh.

'I understand what you're going through. I was the same once. I know I can help you, Ink. You just have to trust me.'

I went for a chair before pushing it across the floor and placing it next to the bed.

I sat down with Molly sitting at my side. Ink was breathing heavily but he lowered his hands and looked around. Tears were rolling down his cheeks. His eyes locked with mine once more.

I pulled out my journal from Molly's backpack, resting it on my lap.

Me: Do you want to pet my dog?

Ink kept silent however, he slowly nodded. My hand motioned for Molly to jump on the bed. She happily moved onto the mattress and nuzzled into Ink.

His hands rubbed her soft ears. I watched them, hoping that Ink would show any form of emotion. Despite my wishful thoughts, not a single smile appeared. Although it worked with calming him.

While the emotionless patient focused on my aid dog, I wrote in my journal.

'Day thirty-five of caring for Ink. He's awake finally! But... he lacks emotions and suffers greatly from PTSD. It reminds me of when I was mentally ill. I remember staying awake at night, remembering the crashing of planes and explosions. Not much of the Air Force fleet survived that day. I woke up in an unknown hospital bed, missing the bottom half of my left leg. They said that it was too shattered to be put back together.'

  I looked up to meet Ink's white pupils. His eyes flickered to my journal before back up at me. The grip around my pencil loosened as we stared at each other. My hand closed the book as I stood up from my chair.

  Ink flinched but he didn't hide himself. It seemed that he saw that I wasn't going to hurt him.

  I grabbed rubbing alcohol and some supplies from the counter nearby. I walked closer to the bed with slow steps, trying to keep myself from looking aggressive.

Me: Can I see your hands?

  Ink hesitated for a second, eventually nodding and presenting his cuffed hands to me. I unwrapped the bandages so I could carefully observe the injures. There were slits starting from the top traveling through the palm.

'Knifes pierced through both of his hands...

What did this to him?