One Stupid Thing

3-4:0:108

April 2022, 18 Months Later
—

Beep... beep... beep... beep.

The slow, rhythmic sound is the first thing I recognize. I inhale through my nose and immediately recoil from the strong smell of antiseptic. My fingers clench around the cheap-feeling fabric that is tucked tightly around my body. My head pounds instantaneously. My ears ring. All my senses are so overwhelmed except for one.

My foggy brain takes a few moments to realize that I do indeed have my eyes open, even though the room is pitch black. I shift in my place and I am immediately hit with an intense wave of pain. I shrink back, wincing from the uncomfortable sensation.

If I had the option to speak, I would yell at the top of my lungs, yet I am restricted. My mouth is as dry as the Sahara desert and my throat is being violated by some tube.

My brain is moving a mile a minute, yet every single thought takes ages to process.

"Stella? Oh my God. John B, she's awake! Go get a nurse. Now!" I recognize my sister's panicked voice even through the haze. Like trying to communicate with someone underwater.

As my consciousness begins to build the panic floods in. I don't know where I am. I don't know what day it is. And why is this goddamn room so dark? Despite the ache that has settled in my bones, I flail in a desperate attempt to pry the plastic out of my mouth. It slides up and out, making me gag.

"Sarah," I croak. "Sarah, where am I?"

"St. Olive's," she replies quickly. I feel her strong hand latch onto and squeeze mine. The other rests on my shoulder. "Please, Stella, you need to relax. You're going to over exert yourself."

"St. Olive's? I'm in the hospital?" I repeat, completely ignoring her request. "What am I doing here? What is going on? And why is this room so fucking dark!?" I shout. "Someone turn on a light. Right now! Sarah, answer me!"

Sarah's silence catches me off guard. My chest is rising and falling rapidly as I struggle to breathe. When my sister lets out a soft sob my breath hitches in my throat.

"Stella, I'm so sorry. So, so sorry," she squeaks. "The light is on."

I stare into the abyss, directly at what I think is my sister's face, in utter disbelief. "N-no. That's impossible. I don't believe you."

Before Sarah has a chance to reply, I hear footsteps enter the room. "John B," my sister begins, her tone stern. Tense silence follows. "I need you to turn the light off."

"Wha—"

"John B," Sarah repeats, her voice cracking with desperation. "Turn off the light."

The room goes completely silent other than the beeping noise coming from the monitor. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest as the anticipation creeps up.

Click. John B flicks the light switch.

Nothing. No change.

Click.

Still nothing. I blink rapidly, attempting to push away the tears that undoubtedly spill from my eyes. My breathing shakes and I feel my sister's hand squeeze mine. She too is trying not to cry.

The sound of heels tapping on the linoleum floor echoes from down the hallway, interrupting the eerie silence, and only grows louder as the bearer walks closer to us. They rap their fist lightly on the door frame before entering.

"Stella Cameron? I'm Dr. Lowen." The woman's voice holds no specific tone. It's a bland introduction, one that is fitting of someone who has to deal with such precarious situations. "Sarah," she greets. "Sir, considering you are not a blood relative, I am going to need you to leave."