Forever, Again

Present: Sep 17, 2023

Aliya's awareness flickered in and out, much like a dimming light struggling to stay bright. She lay on a hard hospital bed, and the sterile, sharp smells of antiseptic and iodine filled the air around her. She was in New York Presbyterian Hospital—a place buzzing with activity, which felt far removed from the dark silence her mind had been trapped in just moments earlier.

Her body throbbed with pain, each muscle aching as if it had been overstretched. Her head felt strangely empty, as though her thoughts were bouncing around in a vast, empty space. Trying to open her eyes was like trying to lift weights with her eyelashes; they felt incredibly heavy, almost refusing to let her see the world around her.

Her mouth was dry, her tongue uncomfortably stuck to the roof of her mouth. Swallowing felt like a major effort. It was then she heard it—a man's voice, distant yet clear, cutting through the background noise of beeping monitors and the swift footsteps of hospital staff.

"She's waking up!" he announced urgently, his voice breaking through the routine hum of the hospital. The sound was too sharp for Aliya, piercing the delicate state of her waking mind.

"Aly, can you hear me?" the voice came again, now closer. It was gentle, but with a rough edge, as if strained and dusty. The man kept clearing his throat, his voice raspy and uneven. This wasn't Dylan; Dylan's voice was smooth and calming, like music flowing from a well-tuned instrument.

In her groggy state, Aliya's mind twisted reality. The beeps from the machines around her seemed to turn into distant cheers, a crowd chanting her name with intensity that shook her to her core. "Aliya! Aliya!" they called out, their voices building up to a powerful climax that filled her ears and muddled her thoughts.

She strained to focus, to make sense of her surroundings under the harsh glare of the overhead lights that now seeped through her eyelids. Her vision, still blurry and unyielding, eventually made out the shapes of people moving around her—a rush of blue scrubs and white coats, signaling the presence of nurses and doctors. Their faces were focused, their eyes quickly shifting from her to each other, silently communicating with urgent looks.

The room seemed to spin, or perhaps it was just her mind, spinning between snippets of reality and illusion. Occasionally, a touch grounded her—a cool hand on her forehead, a gentle adjustment to her IV line, a comforting word softly spoken. But these moments of clarity were brief, soon overtaken by vivid hallucinations.

The ceiling above transformed into a sea of faces—some smiling, others expressing silent distress. The soft beep of her heart monitor turned into a foreboding drumbeat, slow and deep, matching the erratic pounding in her chest. The lights flickered rhythmically, casting long, dark shadows that seemed to creep towards her, only to shrink back as though frightened by their own boldness. Her breathing became uneven, each breath sharper than the last.

And then, overwhelmed by it all, Aliya slipped back into unconsciousness.

Aliya's eyelids flickered open with immense effort, revealing a pair of vivid blue eyes gazing down at her, filled with unmistakable concern. The owner of these eyes was a young man with sharp features and blonde hair styled in a relaxed swoop. He was dressed in a maroon knitted sweater and brown trousers, the semi-formal attire lending him an approachable yet refined appearance. As their eyes met, his hands hovered uncertainly in the air.

"Who are you?" Aliya's voice was a whisper, tinged with fear. Her heart pounded as she struggled to remember any detail that could explain this stranger's presence.

"Luke, move..." another voice commanded, distant and authoritative. It sounded like a doctor's. Aliya's gaze shifted towards the sound, but her vision blurred, making the figure indistinct. Dizziness overwhelmed her, and darkness began to edge her sight.