See Me

Chapter 1

In the realm of near death experiences, there's a variety of testimonies. Some people say they saw their life flash before their eyes, others say they saw a bright light, and a select few say they saw a dead family member reaching out to them, beckoning.

August had none of the above.

He felt like he was floating on a cloud, rather, everything felt so light and pillowy. He was eight years old again, jumping on his best friend Mason's trampoline in his family's enormous backyard, lined by rows and rows of tall evergreens.

It was a hot summer day in mid-July where the backs of t-shirts grew sticky with sweat, clinging onto the owner and pale skin grew pink and rosy despite being lathered head to toe in sunscreen.

They'd been banished outside by Mason's parents after their third straight round of Mario Kart, relishing in the cool air conditioning that circulated throughout the house.

"My Dad told me that what goes up must always come down." Mason had said as they
jumped.

Up and down.

"That sounds dumb." He'd replied, watching Mason's head of tight, dark curls rise and fall.

Up and down.

"Yeah well my Dad's super smart, so it probably meant something." He shrugged.

Up and–

"-Boys, come inside! There's popsicles in the freezer!" They stopped jumping and Mason hurriedly unzipped the net. They ran to the screen door, bare feet flattening the browning, dead grass.

Up and down.

August's chest forcefully rose and fell with the help of a ventilator. The tube snaked down his throat, pushing a mixture of oxygen and compressed air into his tired lungs.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but he knew that whatever had happened to him wasn't good, judging by the fact that he still couldn't get himself to open his eyes.

He could hear almost everything around him, voices of people coming in and out, the irritating, steady beep of machines, even the occasional sound of cries whenever his mother came to visit.

He just couldn't move, leaving everyone to believe that August was merely unconscious and unbeknownst to him, had been for the last four weeks.

"I'm going to unhook him from the vent again to see if he'll breathe on his own. If not, we'll have to go down the tracheostomy route." A voice August couldn't recognize filled the stale air.

He'd grown to hate whoever the voice belonged to. The voice always acted like just because he was comatose, didn't mean he could still hear what was going on around him.

He could feel everything too, which is why he'd also grown to despise the vent checks. Breathing on his own fucking hurt, like someone had set his chest on fire.

It didn't used to hurt, but he'd heard from one of the voices that came into his room at least once a day that they'd been slowly weaning him off the heavy dosage of pain medication, to see if that'd make him wake up.

He didn't want to wake up, but when the slight hiss of his ventilator being unhooked filled his ears along with the painstakingly familiar burn of his lungs as they desperately attempted to draw breaths in, his eyes involuntarily snapped themselves open.

He blinked rapidly, eyes desperately trying to adjust to the all too bright fluorescent lighting as one of the many monitors beside his bed began to beep noisily. A man with a blindingly white coat and graying hair's eyes darted from the chart in his hands to August.

In an instant, nurses surrounded August's beside as the doctor hurriedly put his chart down, eyes wide. "Push two milligrams of morphine and a milligram of lorazepam."

His eyes narrowed as he looked at the doctor. Get this fucking tube out of my throat.

"Don't worry, I'll get the tube out in just a second buddy. I'm just going to adjust the bed and have you sit up a bit more, alright?" His bed was adjusted so that he was almost sitting up completely as the doctor snapped on a pair of blue, latex gloves.

"Okay, take a deep breath for me..."

"And out." When August exhaled, the tube was pulled out of his throat, leaving his throat burning as if he'd just inhaled a cloud of thick, black smoke.

"Good." He coughed, lungs burning as a nurse slipped an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose.

He took shaky breaths as an ice cold stethoscope slipped under his gown, pressing against his chest as a blood pressure cuff was simultaneously strapped to his arm.

His gaze fell down to the padded restraints that tied his wrists to the bed rails. He frowned as the cuff tightened.

Once he caught his breath, the oxygen mask was removed from his face and a nasal cannula took its place, slipped into his nostrils with the excess carefully looped behind his ears.

A nurse with kind, brown eyes and a small smile wordlessly offered him a white, styrofoam cup full of water with a plastic, bendy straw sticking out of it. He accepted it graciously, taking slow sips as she held the cup in front of him with a steady hand. The scratchiness in his throat slowly began to dissipate the more sips he took.

He looked straight ahead at floor to ceiling glass windows and doorway. The beige curtains were pulled to the side, giving him a full view of the desolate, windowless hallway. The only light source came from the horrid fluorescent lighting that bounced off the white, linoleum flooring.

August had been in the hospital two times before, once as a patient and another time as a visitor.

When he was twelve, he broke his wrist during a hockey match. His opponent had elbowed him with such force that he'd fallen to the ground, straight onto his outstretched wrist.

Back then, he'd only made it to the ER, where he waited for a good two hours just to get an X-Ray and then another hour after that to get his wrist set back into place and casted.

The last time August had been in the hospital was four years ago, as a visitor the day after his older sister Lexi had given birth to her daughter, Luna.

That time he'd actually gone into a hospital room, venturing to the "childbirth wing" which was much more populated and nosy compared to wherever he was now.

This part of the hospital was deathly silent.

The doctor tapped him on the shoulder and he turned his head toward him, instantly being blinded by a flashlight shining into his eyes. He grimaced.

"Can you tell me your name?" He asked once he finally put the flashlight down. August had had it with him.

"Fuck you."

—

hi, welcome to See Me!

this story has a mix between college hockey and sled hockey which in researching, i've found out is actually really fucking cool and i'm excited to incorporate it into the story.

the first half of this story of if i planned it right will be mainly about august and his recovery but the second half will include camille, who's arguably one of my favorite characters i've created so far and i'm excited for you all to get to meet her.

anyways, on the topic of engagement, i'd really appreciate it if you'd tell me your thoughts and comments on the story as it comes along. i love getting to read people's thoughts, reactions to my work, and feedback so i'd greatly appreciate it if you'd push down the urge to be a silent reader and let me know what you're thinking.

also, no question is a stupid question! if you're ever confused on something throughout the book whether it be hockey terminology wise or just character wise, please don't hesitate to ask!

with all that being said, as usual, thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy the story!