The-Nacho-King

       A gust of wind blew through the half-closed window; a constant ticking sound bounced against the thin white walls of the room. The air seemed thick, thicker than usual and deep brown eyes flickered over the surface of crème white crisp sheets. Pale hands grasped at metal poles-ice cold to the touch. His breath hitched as he sat up, ''Fuck.'' He muttered. Voice dry and hoarse. Turning his head he let out a sigh and swung his feet over the bed-it was rough and the pain from just that motion had him almost fall but he caught himself before it could happen. ''What time is it?'' He questioned, standing straight up-back cracking as he d