Dastaan Jo Likhun

Ch 4.1. Static Noise - PART I

___________ Context __________

Checklist key: 

[✓ - accepting, ⍰ - questioning, ✖ - not accepting, ▂ - in disbelief/ blank face, ⚠︎- warning]

I have used images and song lyrics to aid in storytelling. Please read through the images to get the sub-context of the narrative.

This chapter is pivotal in moving the story along, so I hope you survive it. 

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Pitch Black.

Except the sterile glow of the ER lights, flashing of the sign spilling onto the invisible streets.

Icy Cold.

Except the warmth of fresh tears, blood, streaming down his face.

No Sound.

Except the panting of a dead man, running, with urgency.

'Almost there!'

The metallic taste of iron coupled with the sour stomach acids leaving a rancid aftertaste in his mouth. His fear and desperation, pumping his soles to run through the barricades of the hospital's entrance.

 He felt a sensation of being exceptionally light and heavy at the same time.

Light, because of all adrenaline pumping through his veins, distorting his surroundings into a hazy blur. Forcing him to pause for a second to map out his route, hyper-alert for any signs of his son.

Heavy, because his worry was heavier than the weight of the Earth, burdened by the uncertainty of his son's state.

... because the exhaustion from his own physical exertion was becoming more apparent with each step.

... because he was struggling to disassociate from the news he received, unwilling to relive that horrendous moment again.

'I have to, I can't think about that right now...' his jaw clenched, as if to keep his roaring whimper caged in.

As he flung the hospital door open, the symphony of chaos assaulted his senses. He stood at the threshold, dazed and disoriented, trying to clear his head, but the agitation enraged the ringing in his ears. A constant static noise, refusing to leave him.

Pushing himself, he forced himself to grab hold of someone– anyone– who could help to find his missing son. The weight of the unknown pressing down on him, each breath echoing the urgency of his mission.

'Abhi... pull yourself together!' His mental pep talk essential in keeping himself conscious.

He stumbled over to the reception only to find it empty. Even the hallways were empty. No one in sight.

He barraged forward, discarding any sense of propriety in the urgency of the moment. The second set of doors swung open, revealing the emergency trauma room, where instead of hope, he sensed the presence of death.

Wafting in like smog.

Slowly enveloping everything in sight, hueing the surroundings in a grayish tint.

'This is bad!' Signs of concussion, apparent in his vision. 'I need a CT!...' 

Blinking away his confusion, he reached out, searching for anyone in authority, but wherever he moved he found injured patients, lying on stretchers.