Mind Reconstructive

Coming-To

I blink, and try to focus on the white ceiling which invades my vision. The walls are white as well, and everything is blurry. My head pounds and I moan as I re-position myself on the bed. My hands are not chained, there are no restrictions, and the panic which coils within me begins to recede and slink away. Where am I?                                                                                                                                                                         

A door creaks open and a figure that looks oddly familiar walks in. Georgia? Mr. Willem? I can't tell, my eyes won't focus, though I try to force them to. But it's none of them; Blue hair, Red shirt, Black skinny-jeans, coffee in hand, and I know. Illeah. My friend from two foster-homes ago. I blink harder, trying to make her come into focus but I can't. I try to open my mouth, but no sound comes out. Seems to me all of my senses suck at the moment.

"You gave us quite a scare, you know." She says, sitting in a chair beside the bed. She doesn't seem to notice my lack of ability to speak. "Selah was in tears when you were brought  inside...You were so pale...You looked almost dead." Illeah was always so good at keeping a uniform face, but the ever-so-slight tremble in her voice betrays her. 

I'd be tempted to tell her I kind of wish I was dead if I could speak, but I can't. I wouldn't anyways.

"The family wants to know why you didn't tell them that your attacks had gotten worse...That was what it was, right? Why did you panic? They want to know that too...Georgia's blaming herself, they're worried about you. I miss you, Erril...I don't know if you miss me...But if you could please wake up, the whole family would appreciate it. I know you can't talk; and that's okay. I'm not supposed to be here...I'm sorry this is happening..." She hesitates; neither of us were very good with words, so I would expect it.

"I love you, Erril, and...I'm sorry...I'll see you later..." She stands to leave. I don't want her to go; I want her to stay. She makes me feel safe; as much as I hate that I need to feel that...I want her to stay here. I  miss her too. I try again to make sound leave my mouth but I can't. I'm desperate. She can't leave. I need her to stay. 

But as I struggle to form words, or sound, or anything, lleah reaches the door, and the world recedes into another form of cursed darkness.

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When I wake again, I lay in a bed, surrounded still by white walls, but this time I'm more alert and can make out my surroundings better. I am at the Willem's house, in my room. The black and white moon poster on the ceiling tells me this. I am covered in my normal blankets, surrounded by my normal pillows. 

Did I dream my entire attack? Did I dream of Illeah visiting me?

The question runs laps in my head while I contemplate an answer. Finally, I turn over to retrieve my phone.  

2:23 PM, November 25, 2015.

No help there; My panic attack was yesterday, (supposing I didn't dream it). But who could tell? 

The suddenly opening door will probably tell me that. 

Georgia walks in quietly. She appears tired and worried, not to mention guilty. "Oh, you're awake. Good." She sighs, relief filling every syllable of her sentence. "When you passed out, we didn't know what to do; Love, you were so...pale...You scared us so much."

Well, I suppose it was real.

"How...I was outside...How did you find me? You-you seemed pretty...preoccupied." I manage to whisper. My voice is hoarse and I have no idea why. It's quite annoying.