11 Years Missing

Kapitel 1 Del 3

The abrupt sense of free-falling jolts Arika awake, heart pounding. Panting, she clamps her eyes shut against the intrusive light and throws a heavy arm across her face. She pulls the restrictive tube from her face, throwing it aside weakly.

An ache is mounting in her temples. She inhales deeply, the beeping of the machine alongside her lowering its tempo. A chill runs up her back, whatever she dreamed was vivid enough for the fear to grip her even now.

She takes another breath and holds it for a count of ten. Exhaling with a sigh, she cracks her eyes open, hesitating. It's just a dream.

The white of the walls are almost blinding and it takes a moment for her eyes to adjust to the brightness. Confused, she surveys the room, nothing appears familiar. Furnished with simple fixtures, the room appears almost barren. Her mind finally registers the persistent beeping beside her. She turns her head to both sides, taking in the machines encircling her. Oh, she sighs once more in relief, I'm in the hospital.

The stinging scent of disinfectant should've told her immediately but her thinking is languid at best. The room is actually dimly lit, street lights streaming through the two large windows on her right against a darkening evening sky. On the opposite side, the brightly lit hallway filtering through the square window at the top of the door illuminates most of the room, allowing Arika to take stock of herself and her surroundings.

A couple chairs to her right under the window, a coffee table in between, a rolling tray unused in the far corner. A monitor, ventilator and IV pump on either side of her bed and a bedside table with a jug of water, a plastic cup and a stack of magazines worn from the fingers of time. To her left, a door slightly ajar, porcelain peeking from the darkness. The bathroom, she concludes. Her eyes are drawn to the lone decor in the room, a plant reaching upwards in the far right corner of the room, partially hidden by a chair but in full view of soaking up some daily sun.

A figure passes in front of her door, instinctively she opens her mouth to call out but changes her mind. Instead she sits up and swings her legs over the edge, reaching for the jug, the IV line tugging from her arm. Spout to lips, she guzzles the lukewarm liquid, more to rejuvenate her vocal cords than the feeling of thirst. The water leaks from the corners of her mouth and spills onto her hospital gown like a steady fountain. It is only after she has moistened her throat, she realises what happened. She stares at the soaked fabric clinging to her skin.

She's still numb, her senses torpid in response. She pulls cathodes from her chest, the two needles from her arm and wrist, leaving trickles of blood in their places. She bends her elbow to her chest guardedly and presses a firm finger against her wrist to stem the bleeding, shuffling barefooted into the bathroom.

She looks around and as she glances over the mirror, something catches her attention. Not something... someone. Hazel eyes stare back at her with an unfamiliar piercing glare. The depth and experience reflected in them, alien. Then with a sinking feeling in her gut, she registers that those eyes are hers.