Left In The Dark

Chapter 29

I was flat on my stomach in the hospital bed. I had regained my consciousness after hours. It was the next morning. I didn't remember much, except my family being rushed out of the room after falling into a frenzy. I was now alone in the room wondering if the nurse had given me another injection because I have never felt so numb in my life. Literally. I felt frozen. She would peep in every now and then to check on me but I wouldn't respond. I just stared at the wall before me, unmoved. Unblinking and barely breathing. I'd stare at that wall until my eyes burned and swelled with water blurring everything. I'd finally give in and blink to clear it up and then do it all over again. Blurring and un-blurring my surroundings. That was how I was feeling. So out of it. I casted my eyes elsewhere after getting bored with the white wall. It caught one of the few instances of color in here. The painting I had done. The one he helped me with. It was just yesterday. He was just here. I touched the spot he was laying on less than 24 hours ago-gripping the sheet. I was wishing that I did make love to him in this bed. I looked at the portrait again.

I pushed myself up into a seated position. It was the first move I made in hours. I reached over to it and gazed at it vacantly. I tossed it to the side and stood up. I walked over to the only window in the room, looking out to the city. The sky was clear and the sun was shining brightly as if nothing happened. I winced and closed blinds, which were also white-matching the sterile room. I didn't want to see anything anyway. I wandered in the confines of my room. Not sure of what to do or where to go. I was disoriented and disconnected. Somehow I made it toward one of the draws in the room. I opened it and rummaged through its content idly. I saw a bunch of pens, paperclips, papers, a clipboard, rubber bands, and a stapler. I sifted through another draw and saw some of the same things.

I opened another one that had a key hole in it. I'm sure it was supposed to be closed because the others didn't have a lock on it, but it was unlocked nonetheless. My eyes widened as I saw the various medical instruments. There were needles encased in a plastic packaging, little bottles with liquid in them. I'm sure there were some type of drugs. A bottle of alcohol and cotton swabs. A box of latex gloves. Something in particular caught my eye. I picked it up and the light refracted off its stainless steel surface. I slowly turned it in my hand and watched the light dance along the walls. Closing the draw behind me, I walked over to the opposite side of the room. I slid down the wall and sat on the floor, still twiddling the instrument in my hand.

I replayed the events from the entire week in my head. The excitement. The anticipation. The anxiety. The joy. But it was all overshadowed by sorrow. Shawn died.

Shawn died. Shawn. Died.

Shawndiedshawndiedshawndieddiedshawndiedshawndiedshawndieddiedshnjkf,sjdnfs,s

I squeezed my eyes shut and rocked back and forth with my hands covering my ears. I was trying to block it all out. The numbing feeling returned I reopened my eyes and stared at the scalpel in my hand. I was looking right into my eyes. What were they good for now? The person that I needed to see wasn't here. The sadness of the whole situation soaked in. But I couldn't cry. I couldn't feel. I was empty.

I took the tip of the scalpel and looked at my fingertips. Then I pressed it into my middle finger.

"Sssssss."

I winced at the instant slice. It bled. I watched the bright red hue peek out like a bubble from the tiny cut and pour out. I stared enticingly at the fluid as it slowly trickled down my palm. I felt my pulse jump. It excited me. So I sliced my index finger. The process happened again: the sting, the blood bubble, and the trickling that awakened my senses. I was transfixed on the two lines as they raced down the length of my arm, passing over my palm-seeping into its cracks, gliding by my wrist and down my forearm. It was like two beautiful strokes of paint on a blank canvas. I was in a trance. I cut another finger