TRIGGER WARNING: This contains fair detailed descriptions on blood, surgical equipment, light aggression, struggle and strains.
A heavy pulse echoed throughout my limb body, clawing and scratching at every fibre it could grasp at. Everything ached. The faint smell of bitter, dry metal swept through my nose for a brief moment, as i grew more conscious. It wasn't a familiar smell. It was a hard, brittle smell. It entered my lungs just as slow as it had left them, scraping and scratching at my throat as i weakly held the little life i had left in me. It grasped for the same air i tried to reach for but just like me, it could not reach it. I prepared for the weak attempt of living to slowly fade, to be face to face with whatever darkness was left for me, though the faint knock of concrete grew closer. Tapping and tapping at my mind, poking it like an obnoxious child waiting for their parents attention.
No.
Those were foot steps.
They tapped swiftly with a motion between each step, rhythmically pacing between each other in a race, calmly complementing the steps before it. They weren't angry. Not at all. But curious. They grew larger and wider than the thumps in my body, that climbed and crawled all over me. The dark void i had expected to be greeted with was interrupted by the sudden pulse of footsteps that soon interrupted themselves with a sudden stop.
A calm voice spoke, gentle but not welcoming. It left their mouth and swiftly danced in the air with wonder.
"Are you awake?"
The brittle strength i had left slowly saw light once more, a sudden flash of colour and shapes shoved desperately through the sockets of my eyes, mixing with the smell and environment around me that slowly turn to a lonely grey. I could see. No thought had entered my mind, simply confusion hung by the nose as i ponderously glanced across side to side, admiring the environment around me in a breathless sense. My head togged back and fourth fighting with itself as i tried to fully grasp where i was. I did not know.
"Hello?"
I was so lost in the moment of colour and shape i had forgotten the interruptive foot steps that brought the vision to me to begin with.
He hung heavy above me with a face of inquiry. His eyes full of wonder that swirled and spun, danced and laughed amongst each other as the tension of curious intent grew wilder in nature. A soft dark grey mask covered and muffled the gentle speech that left his mouth, hiding itself in the cover of a safety blanket, sowed up with lies and stitched together nicely with a gentle touch. A suit left neat and clean but loud enough to leave the impression, the intent was little but it had impact, his position and views were written under his sleeve, he was a man unreadable, a book with no words with a dull cover, pages left blank but some left with images that screamed quietly at you to keep turning each page. A small clock watch that hung freely against his torso pocket, swirling forwards and backwards impatiently as it hung above me, silently clicking the seconds that went by without a moments thought.
I went to exhale whatever energy of speech i had left within me. My mouth gestured to talk but my tongue tied itself to my throat, no words left my mouth but many entered my mind, full of confusion. A sharp pain stroked up the back of my spine, crawling over my shoulder blades and through my neck, swirling up my head and into my mind. It was pure agony. My attempt was left clear as he gestured gently to stop trying to talk. So i stopped.
The grey man made his way to the other side of the room, every move thought out in a course of actions he had already planned, he was organised. I watched him fiddle across a range of syringes and bottles full of various liquids, all with different colours and unique glows that flickered and shined against the range of stacked books that sat alone next to them, stacked one on top of the other with the frosting of dust layered on top. I couldn't make out the covers of the books, let alone what the man was doing. However the lacing of shiny silk that waved across each book caught my attention. The more i looked at it the more the books looked to be made of leather, perhaps they were journals. I tried to glance back towards the many bottles and containers of liquids i saw the man at, however he was now stood next to me, looking down upon me as if i had rudely offended him.
