DEAD EYES

CHAPTER 1: FRESH

A STRANGE DOCTOR

I blankly stared at the hospital room's plain white walls lit by the dull afternoon sun, wondering if I was still breathing. In some ways, it would've been tragically stupid to die in such a bland way; aimlessly walking around, alone on a late winter evening to empty my mind, wiped out of existence in a second. The large thudding sound would've been the only testimony of my presence to the car's owner as my consciousness drifted away. I distinctly remember how cold the ground was as the puddles drained all the warmth my body could fathom, the rhythmic rainfall drowning out the sound of the car's roaring radio and engine as it drove away from the scene. To my miserable surprise, my last thoughts that emanated from my mind were I'm going to be late for work. Eventually, the low voices of strangers calling for help were dominated by the rumble of rainfall.

My right arm laid limply by my side; it felt oddly detached from me, as if it were someone else's. The IV tube twisted onto one of them like a root growing on the surface of my skin. I couldn't recognize the faces of the people in the room who stared back at me, all in their medical uniforms. It didn't actually matter who they were or where I was; all I could care about was the clock in front of me digitally displaying the glowing red numerals of four thirty pm. I expected to hear the beeping of various machines surrounding me, replaced instead by the hubbub from the doctors. To my surprise, I felt nothing as I repeatedly folded my hands into a fist and opened them. I halted myself in my train of meaningless thoughts, saying one more time to the medical team in front of me;

"So when do I get to leave? I need to go to work this evening." After a minute of complete silence, the doctor besides me sighed and insisted with a serious tone;

"It's honestly a miracle that you're even alive right now. Since a vehicle hit you, you really shouldn't be trying to leave the hospital one day after such an incident. It's really dangerous to leave, especially if you live on your own..." He sighed louder this time at the sight of my unwavering glare, passing the forms Against Medical Advice for my early discharge. "You need to sign this to confirm that you fully understand that you are leaving against our medical advice." He stared back at me with a hint of contempt with his formal smile that didn't reach his obviously tired eyes.

Even if I tried my best, I couldn't focus on my surroundings; the painkillers and injuries twisted my entire body into a nauseous and mind bending state. A blanket of numbness completely covered me; even if it blocked any pain, my exterior was simply a metallic shell isolating me from the outside. I was hesitant to make any movement, my arms and legs viciously stiff. Various casts and splints entrapped my limbs, repressing their mobility as well. I felt particularly pathetic as the doctor finished a few papers, powerless and unable to fully understand what was truly going to happen with me. I'd probably reconsider my decision of leaving once the pain would surge.

As I continued looking around in the room, I noticed a police officer on one side seemingly ready to ask questions. She had the typical British uniform, with a checkered pattern on her hat and yellow jacket. Beyond the crack of the open door, I recognized my younger brother who was closely followed by a tiny girl decorated with colorful wings carefully made out of dainty sheers. I think I smiled although it was hard to tell with the lack of sensation on my face as the police officer got closer, gathering her notebook.

"Was my brother up to no good?" I joked, the police officer replying;

"Oh, no worries; I'm here for you, not him. I assume that the medical staff explained this to you, but you were the victim of a hit and run. Since you are being discharged, we would like you to come down to the Bridewell police station to get your full statement about the incident." While I was still in a hazy fog, I simply replied with a question;