Midnight Memories

CHAPTER - 1:

Blue.

Blue… walls.

No… purple. Purple walls.

Familiar.

These are all the things I have been able to register in all the conscious seconds between my blackouts. The first couple of times I gained consciousness, I literally thought that I was sleeping. But a few blackouts later, the pain kicked in. At first, it was like a sweet kiss on my head, then slight tickling, and out of nowhere, hot,  blinding pain.

I was so shocked by it’s intensity that I managed to crawl out of my unconsciousness but I was not kidding about the “blinding” part. I couldn't open my eyes, no matter how much I tried. And eventually I gave up and kissed back the oblivion calling me constantly to itself.

I don't know how much time it had passed. Perhaps a few million years of torture. I reached a point when the pain became bearable, or perhaps I just got used to the burning waves of torture. I really wanted to look at the time and date on the digital clock sitting right beside my bed on a small wooden table. But I couldn't even process complete thoughts, let alone open my eyes and see what in the world was wrong with me.

1 blackout later, I got my sense of smell back to me. And what I smelled first was so shocking and so strong, that I slipped once again into oblivion. I had smelled blood. Apparently a whole lot of it.

This time I got my hearing back, which I hadn't even realized was gone until it came back. I could hear muffled noises. I think it was traffic. Or it could be a giant fire breathing dragon for all I cared. I was getting bored and anxious and panicky. Was I dead? The pain in my head indicated otherwise. Or perhaps I was in hell after all.

Out of nowhere I started feeling thirsty, and my stomach started growling. If i wasn't dead already, I would most probably be if I didn't wake up soon.

I tried, I tried so hard. I felt as if consciousness was in plain sight, just out of reach. It was one of those feelings you get as a student, when you are giving an exam and are trying to grasp that one fact, but every time you think you got it, it slips away through your fingers.

Still I urged myself. I could make sentences in my brain now. I could think. But not remember. I tried to think of some accident, some fight, just something to give me insight of my current state, but my brain wouldn't cooperate. All I knew was that I was in my house, in my room, on my bed, and that I had a very severe injury on my head that could soon become fatal. I also knew that I had lost a lot of blood, and that I was alone, and that it has been at least a week since hell was brought down upon me.

After a lot of brain wracking it suddenly clicked that my name was Tyler. And with it came a whole lot of things along with a huge wave of relief. All hope was not lost after all, I thought.

I tried to cling to everything that had came along with my name: My age was 23, my parents had just recently died, I had abandoned my studies just a little before their death to pursue a career in art. I worked at a small branch of McDonalds, and my salary was really really bad. And also number 2.