RISK & REWARD ✔️

5 | 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦

I don't remember much. Just a lot of nothing, broken up by the occasional sober-up stab of pain, where I can't breathe for a minute or ten at a time.

How long it's been? I don't know.

I just know that when I can finally feel something — something other than pain — that I feel like jello. My body feels like it's been running on empty for far, far too long, and I've got nothing left.

Something prods at my mouth. For a minute, I don't move; but then the smell of something warm and sweet floats up my nose and oh, food? Is it food?

"That's it. Open for me — it's just oatmeal. That's all. Can you open for me?"

The voice is soft, cool, and charming — or, it's supposed to be. However, the sound of someone else speaking — especially that close to me — nearly makes me shit my large intestine into my pants, and before I can open my mouth my eyes are shooting wide, harsh gasp sending a spike of pain into my chest.

It's too dark to see much, but I can make out the shape of an unfamiliar face overhead; in the muddy darkness of the room I can just make out the slightly-fuzzy edge of their jaw and ever-so-slightly luminous edge of jewelry dangling off of their neck.

"Hey!" The word isn't mean. There's a softly-excited edge to it as the face backs up, shadows of its eyes smiling. "You're awake, aren't you? You see me?"

Yeah. Seeing you is the problem. Chest heaving as fresh air fills my lungs, I try to sit upright, only to find that I am absolutely incapable of moving more than a pitiful inch off of the couch I realize I'm laid on. Panic sets in as I glance around and, once again, nothing looks familiar. In the dark, I can barely make out what I think might be sofas, backed up against an unfamiliar murky wall. Coffee table on my right. Never seen it before.

"It's okay, it's okay, don't panic. I'll explain everything — just breathe slow, okay?" The stranger beside my bed takes away the oatmeal as they back up a step. "If you move, you might hurt yourself. I'll explain all of this in just a minute — just breathe slow and deep for a minute, okay? You're safe. Just relax."

Relaxing is something I cannot currently do. Not when I'm dizzily waking up to a foreign room with no recollection as to how I got there. Even though the room has the distinct, comfortable smell of a grandparent's house. Even that can't help. Panicked, I glance up at the shape beside me, trying to learn their face; darker complexion, lighter eyes (though it's too dark for me to tell exacts), what I think are thick locs tied away from their face. Their expression looks more softly concerned than anything.

A serial killer wouldn't look concerned, would they?

"Just like that. Slow, deep breaths; there you go. Anything hurt? I mean, everything probably hurts — you did have a rough night — but does anything hurt really bad?" My bedside nurse (?) squats down beside me, folding their arms across the edge of the couch. I don't know who they are. I don't know where I am. I don't...I don't know.

"You don't remember how you got here. Do you? Hey, hey. Look at me, okay?"

My eyes flit across the room; there are a dozen framed photos on the sill of a shuttered window, too dark and too far for me to make out the details of. It's someone's house for sure, maybe their living room; slowly, I turn to look at my nurse, who, as my eyes start to adjust to the dim lighting, I quickly find doesn't seem to be dressed like a nurse in any regard. They're in a white tee, gray sweatpants; no scrubs, no gloves, nothing like that. They've got a sleeve of what I think might be crawling ivy tattooed on both arms, though that's more of an aesthetic observation.