THE FAINT BEEPING of the electrocardiogram seemed to echo throughout my mind like the music that bounced off the walls of the saloon on Friday nights. At one point it seemed to be the only thing I could hear, the only thing I could listen to. The green skips of the monitor would bounce up and down–an austere method of indicating life. It did not care for life. If life ceased to exist, it would only cling to one droning shrill as if the person attached to it were defined by its last emerald line. It reminded me of the people we had met in ZuZu City–robotic, cold and emotionless.
The beeping noise that once used to draw my full attention became a sort of blur that only my subconscious recognized. Now, my ears were drawn to the faint breathing pattern of June. It was as if I was connected to her steady breaths, playing almost theatrically through my ears like some sort of melodic tune.
In. Out.
In.
Out.
I had visited here so often that such subtle movements were memorized by my mind. This was her calmest state, the one she often lingered in for weeks at a time.
There was only one other state her breathing held, and I could count on my hand the number of times it occurred.
June would gasp, the electrocardiogram's beeps would quicken, her arms would convulse slightly, and her breathing would turn into the panting only accessible to humans after holding back sobs. The sobs that pained you so deeply it could be mistaken for choking.
At first we thought she was waking up, but it was only a trick being played on us. Like some puppeteer from above was orchestrating the situation around us to relay the worst of experiences. It came with the intent to offer us a glimmer of hope. But this hope was like a child attempting to catch a rainbow, opening their hands in great expectation to be met with nothing. Complete and utter emptiness.
The first occurrence of June's restlessness caused myself, Abby, Sam and Alex to practically leap out of our chairs and lean on the side of the bed in anticipation. We would hope, Yoba we would hope with every ounce of our being that those gleaming green eyes would open to meet back our gazes.
It never happened.
The doctors said, or more so scolded, that it was only subtle seizures that occurred within her coma. But I knew it was more than that, it had to be. Seizures within a coma indicated infection Maru once explained to me, but June's regular check-ups showed no sign of such causes. There had to be something going on within that raging mind of hers. There always was. I don't think a coma could even stop its torment on her. The thought of it pained me even more, thinking of June suffering beneath all of this.
Despite being invisibly chained to her hospital bed, laid in with white and blue sheets whose colour mimicked the speckled summer skies of Stardew Valley, she still looked like the captivating farmer who I was madly in love with. Her body was now frail, as if life did not care for the exhaustive days she had spent fixing Pelican Town or constructing her farm. The muscle she once carried was replaced by thin, grey-tinted skin that reflected the pale mask of the ZuZu City hospital room. Her bones poked out at her wrist, shoulders, and collarbone. The soft blue hospital gown that once fit her snugly now looked as if it engulfed her, emphasizing her weak frame. In a way, her appearance reminded me of my own self when I hid away in the depths of my loneliness.
June's eyes were set back, as if digging holes down into her skull. Around them lay circles the colour of dusk, with purple etching the outer corners. I longed with every fibre of my being for those eyes to open once again and stare back into my own, but longing did nothing.
For a body that was slowly degrading, June's deep brown hair remained like it was the day I met her. This was mainly due to Abby's work. About every three weeks Abby would come and trim June's hair, persistently telling Sam and I that no coma would get in the way of a woman's locks. Sam and I only shared an unknowing glance and let Abby do her work. There was no point in stopping her, really. Once Abby wanted something she pretty much got it right away. That's just who she always was.
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Forgotten (Stardew Valley Fanfic)
FanficThis is an adapted ending to the story 'Isolated' written by @deceiviing. We pick up right where Isolated ended off in Chapter Twenty, but with a different ending that tumbles into a story of its own as the characters re-learn what it means to trust...