Pricked

32

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I find the strength to stand and move around my room. A groan expels out of me at the sight of the cracked floors, chipped doors, dripping ceiling. I hear the rain on the rooftop as I see a drip start to fall. The rain trickles down on the streets below. Through an outline of trees I see deaths most recent victim. I can't help but think as they pile bodies onto the cart from a recent flu outbreak that I'm laying here like it's my grave.

As the church bells ring and bodies being to pile. I am just a bag of bones. That will soon be me. Dumped in a pile or burnt to a crisp, the thought brings fire to my head and tightness to me chest. But as I watch the last body thrown on the pile down below, I give in to the pain. I fall at the window and stare at the now covered bodies rolling away. My bare feet slide down the floor, my back resting against the cold cement wall. Then I'm down on my knees and I'm screaming.

"I'm a friend, and I'm begging you, please! If you don't love me, if you don't have a plan for me, just stop!" I'm yelling at no one and everyone, but mainly him. "Tell me, how can it be? I'm still here, still alive, but not really living? I can't quit, I've tried, I need help, set me free." I pull myself back up to the window just in time to see a small black bird as it soars through the rain. Fly, I think as I force myself up. Fly far away, be free of this place, it is no longer home, it is no longer safe. My breathing is heavy and my jaw tight with anger. There is no longer a reason to go on.

I'm nothing as I watch the bird until it's just a dot in the sky blending in with the raindrops. A small knock that is barely even there pulses through the door and the walls like a clap of thunder. You all came knocking at my door, you fed me misery every time and you keep coming back for more.

My glance goes back to the sky in hopes to see a beam of light breaking through the growing rain, but my body feels weak and I become dizzy. I fall back to my knees, my legs giving out and plop down on my butt. I'm no longer screaming, but my mind hurts, and everything is spinning so fast, what's happening?

I try to open my eyes, to focus on something, but it's all spinning too fast for my brain. My eyes can't comprehend what is really happening. I need help. My eyes fall closed and my head falls down to my chest. "Set me free. I want to get out of here, I wanna go home." The words are slow and it makes my mouth dry and scratchy. What's happening? Why am I feeling this way? I didn't want this pain, I didn't want this, I want to wake up. Please, please, I'm begging, but I don't think he hears me.

My chest becomes tighter and I'm coughing. It's so scratchy, my throat, it feels like sandpaper. I still can't open my eyes, everything it spinning to fast, it is making my stomach clench. I feel as though I might vomit up bile because my stomach is vacant of real food. I'm shaking uncontrollably and don't notice Dr. Russo leave. He is calling for help, his voice fills with worry and confusion. His voice is so loud, as if he is a barking bulldog right in my ear.

"What's happening?" A woman asks, I feel her footsteps move closer to my bed.

"Ah," I scream out in pain, still clutching my head into my knees. "Stop talking, stop moving, stop everything!" The rain isn't helping this pain. The rain pulls at my attention and I can't block it out. "Please," I call out again, trying to hear what Russo is saying, but I only get parts.

"...she's freezing, but her head is heating up. Her pulse has increased and her body is shaking rapidly."

All this is happening to me, to my real body? Am I dying? Is this the end? My questions make my head beat with pain and I try and think of nothing, but the rain, and the footsteps, the voices and movement... I can't block them out. I hear the kitchen staff and their clattering dishes, it's all ringing in my head. Every noise seems trapped and unable to escape my brain. I'm siting, holding myself as still as can be, but everything continues to spin faster and faster around me.

"Dr. Russo, I'm Max, you needed an assistant?" A small voice says upon entrance to my room.

"Yes, yes," Russo says and continues to talk with the man, explaining rapidly what he wants to do with me. They start to work and I feel every pinch and poke, every stab and graze. "Here, sterilize her arm." Russo hands Max a package and he opens it immediately knowing what to do.

Stop, I want to speak but I can't find my voice. Please stop, I can't bear this, I open my mouth but no words come out. It's as if all the pain of the past weeks and all the noise that was submerged is coming at once, taking over my body. I'm still too weak to hold my head up for long, but I peel my eyes open slightly to see them working harder and faster than any doctor ever has.

It's strange, they put a long needle in me, they called it a peripheral internal central catheter, it's long and painful. That's right it hurts. I finally start to fell things and they go and jab a giant needle through my arm and into my chest. They said it would be better than stabbing me to get blood and inject medications I guess it's smart, but damn does it hurt and why wasn't this thought of sooner?

"Hey, hey, hey," A voice calls and pushes through the herd of doctors, Rowan? I hear his voice what is he doing here? My face softens and all the tension and pain seems to dissolve for a moment.

"Rowan," I say and try to stand, but I stumble to the wall, everything still spinning to fast for my legs to handle. The pain comes back and my legs go weak, but I quickly stable myself, lowering my body down to the ground.

"How long has this been going on?" Rowan asks confused. It feels like it's been days of this new pain. Dr. Russo explains the need of the line, my eyes flicker open and Rowan nods, he doesn't question them this time, even though I can see he is still very confused. "Is she going to be okay? Why do you need that now?" They explain some more as they work, Rowan looks pale watching them. "I don't understand she was stable, says every doctor ever! Mitcham, her friend told me she was..." Rowan shakes his breaded face in disbelief. "They said she was fine, for lack of a better word." Rowan's voice booms throughout the room and my head pounds louder.

I crawl to him trying to push him to a seat, but he falters and his legs wobble before I get there. Russo and Max don't look at Rowan while they talk, they are too focused on me to see he is also in distress. They are working on getting blood from me, making sure the needle is in correctly, trying to figure out the new symptoms. Rowan finally falls into a seat, almost breaking it in his downfall. His head falls into his hands. I rush to him as best I can and he's tense and looks like he might vomit. A long time passes with the doctors hushed voices and Rowan just sitting, waiting for an answer, for anything. I lean up against the bed and reach for his hand, I still can't feel him.

"Well," Rowan speaks up and lifts his head only slightly to see their faces "are you done with Harriet?" His voice is soft and the words barely make it out of his mouth. They look back at one another confirming that they were done.

"Yes just be careful of her arm. Don't want to pull the PICC line out."

"Pick?" Rowan asks already forgetting their earlier conversation. He stands holding the chair for balance. He tries to stand tall as he listens more carefully this time.

"P-I-C-C it's an acronym for peripheral-"

"Yeah, okay got it, PICC not pick," Rowan says as he places a finger next to his nose.

"Yes well, she's stabilized for now, but I will be back... soon. I gave her some medications and will run the blood work now. If you are still here when I get back I will explain more of what I find." Russo and Max give a quick nod and rush out the door.

The pain is so strong that I wish Rowan could make it go away again. He grasps my hand and oh how I wish his touch was a magical cure, but my head begins to thud and now my arm burns with pain.

I close my eyes again and see nothing but hear everything.