The Story of Blood and Roses

The first thing I noticed was the sound of air. It was an odd thing to notice, but I could not concentrate on much else. My skull felt like it would crack open and spew all its contents at any moment. The insistent beeping far away, reminded me that I was alive. My lips felt chapped, and there was a huge pressure on my chest that was slowly suffocating me.

For a second, I wondered why I was alive. In the next, I grieved the loss of certainty in life. I prayed inconsolably to be given the power to cry, or at least lash out in anger at the injustice of being kept alive when all I wanted to do was punish him and myself for the mistakes that we had made.

I had no idea where I was, or how I had ended up there in the first place.

There had been no hope of anyone finding me. They had made it clear that my tracker had been deactivated.

I choked on the air that forced its way inside my lungs. I tried to cough, but the gusts strangled me.

The sound of urgency broke out around me. I tried to move, to tell them that I was alive.

They understood.

I heard familiar voices. I heard arguments. I couldn't catch most of it, but I heard anger and disapproval. I didn't know who had spoken the words, but in some part of my mind, I realized that I was not welcome in the lives of people I thought I knew.

Time seemed to pass slowly from where I was. I wouldn't have known if days passed. I kept track of the number of times I felt an extra dose of cold fluid mix with the saline and my blood. I wanted to protest. I wanted to wake up, but I had no intentions of recovering just yet.

"God damn it. How long are you going to keep up this act?" Words were spoken in my ears. I wondered how many days it had taken them to understand that I was conscious. I would have loved to hear the colorful terms the doctors must have used to rationalize my behavior.

I had half a mind to respond, but I was not ready.

"Come back to me," I heard him say. If my face wasn't frozen from the lack of moisture, I might have broken into a smile. "Fuck," I heard him curse. At the back of the room, I heard the beeping slow down.

I understood that it certainly did not seem like good news.

He called the doctors. I heard the crush of medical professionals swarmed into the room and kept tabs on my vitals with keen interest.

They thought that the lowering of my heartbeat was a good sign. Apparently, the rise in heart rate had developed after the irregular heartbeats had subsided. I did hear them mentioning that I was now out of danger.

There goes my only chance, I thought.

There was no use in pretending any longer. When I had the strength to open my eyes, I would. It was time to get up and pull myself together.

.

It took me hours to get used to the silence in the room. When I finally opened my eyes, I couldn't see anything. Panic rushed into my heart as I blinked and wondered.

Have I somehow lost my eyesight?

No...

It's something else.

I tried to speak. I couldn't. My throat was scratchy, and the mask made it impossibly hard to get the words out.

I reached out for the call button. I couldn't find it.

I waited for someone to check on me.

How much time passed as I stared into the darkness, I did not know.

Somewhere in my fear wrought mind, I realized that in a distance, a sliver of light grew bigger and bigger with every moment that passed. The door opened slowly, and I saw a figure slip inside the room.

As ecstatic as I was to be able to see, I feared for my life. I clutched the coarse sheet of the bed and waited for the attack.

My eyes followed the ghostly figure as it moved around the room. The light from the machines illuminated her face.

A nurse, I recognized.

I held my breath, trying to push down the agonizing need to run.

Suddenly, my eyes burned as I squinted through the glaring lights. As the nurse turned to inject something into my arm, I saw her eyes flicker to my face. She gasped and staggered back. She turned back, moving towards the door and then ran out.

The suspicion that had found shelter at the back of my mind now grew bolder. It clung to me like the scent of alcohol. I tried to move my body slowly. Pulling the IV out of my hand with shaking fingers, I tried to bite back the pain. The slightest movement of my fingers caused an excruciating pain to shoot throughout my body. Almost immediately, I wished that the nurse had injected the painkiller.