Nightwalker

Thirty Nine

Riordan

Today, air is subjective.

Today, oxygen has become luxury.

I'd always wondered what losing all of my senses would feel like. Seeing out of nothing, hearing out of nothing, touching and feeling with nothing.

Being accustomed to nothing.

And today, I no longer wonder.

A fire blazes vehemently through every inch and crevice of my body. A pounding fist on my head asking for desperate entry, but to no avail.

My limbs numb out, and my vision returns revealing a pack of nurses scattering, trying to shut off a loud noise behind me.

Only, the loud noise wasn't from behind me, it was from me.

"WHERE IS SHE!" My ears and knees pop as I jog through a sea of personnel holding onto my shoulders like it was them I came for.

"Riordan, please!" A voice of reason echoes around in my head, faster and faster with each time the sound bounced off the sides of my cranium.

My vision was distorted and the only thing I could make out was a large room with a bed in it through a glass window.

A nurse blocks the door to the room, mouthing something I couldn't understand, so I push.

And shove.

And hit.

And yell.

And cry, clawing at the door until it's open and I'm standing before my best friend, connected to a labyrinth of wires and machines with fluctuating neon numbers.

My knees give way, hitting the cold, hard tile beneath me.

Three days.

It's been three days.

My vision distorts once more, contorting the head of a familiar guy I'd seen before.

"THIS IS YOUR FAULT!"

My voice carries, and he is pushed back into the wall with force. 

The lights flicker spastically as he tries to stand up.

Hospital staff scurry around and everyone in the room backs away in confusion and fear.

My senses recalibrate, and my anger pools around me, spitting me back into reality.

Soren.

"Riordan, please! You don't understand what's happened!" He pleads in pain.

Thor was behind me, tears streaking his hardened face.

"Why can I FEEL it, Soren!? WHY can I FEEL THAT YOU DID THIS!?"

I gesture to unconscious Martie in bed, and a pair of hands snake around my shoulder.

Wiggling out of it, I turn around to see my father, also crying.

The absolute audacity he has to even be here.

"Don't you DARE touch me, you fucking hypocrite!"

Security waltzes into Martie's room with a doctor guarding the doors.

I fight myself to calm down before I'm thrown out of hospital.

The doctor comes in slowly, gaging his movements around me. My eyes flicker to his name tag briefly, and I futilely attempt to read his name, which looked like gibberish to me.