Carey groaned, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he stomped down the corridor. This sucked. Why did everything have to be so stupid. Why couldn't they just make everything easier and less bloody embarrassing then having to go to the damned infirmary every week. What a chunk out of his life he'd never get back!
He walked through the open doors of the hospital wing, taking a seat on the wooden chair next to the desk in there, where he was told to wait. He rolled his eyes at the light, airiness of this place. Honestly, he could have sworn that it was a woman running this place. Peaceful and relaxing his arse, it was breezy and just annoyingly bright.
Blah, he could complain to himself all day...or, you know, out loud if he really felt like it. But he didn't want to have those annoying comments, 'why so moody, forget your meds this morning?' or 'talking to yourself? you taking meds for that?' or any other variant of joking comments like that. Screw them, they didn't know anything. No one did. He didn't need to bloody take anything, it didn't work anyways. He had suspicions that they were sugar pills or something of the like, to make his parents not worry that he'd freak out or anything like that. Everyone was just...stupid. All of this was stupid.
He groaned again, pulling one of his hands out of the crossed position. He looked at his fingers, annoyed by the torn skin right next to his nail. It stung and was really pissing him off. Maybe he could get the healer to just fix it up while he was here anyways.