Kaya

Chapter 2- Hospitals and hell

"Ugh, who is this...why.." He groggily mumbled, his lips barely leaving each other's embrace. The light seemed to pierce through his thin, feeble eyelids and he hated being hungover on mornings like these.

"Wake up, come on." The soft wind carried a calm whisper than sent a freezing shiver down his tired spine.

He woke up with a sudden force, sat upright and blinked his somehow alert, but still prisoners to drowsiness eyes and tried to say something.

'Kaya?' He wanted to blurt out, but something pressed his throat, it was his spit clinging to the dry walls of his trachea. Suffocated, he tried to get up, but his body was fighting against his will, or so it seemed.

"Wake up...hi.."

It was way too bright and he wondered if he was dead; he had never seen so much white in one place. His eyes took their own sweet time to adjust to this newfound exposure, and it irritated him. If this were heaven, why the fuck was it uncomfortable and if this were hell, why was it so damn white?

"Don't worry, you're okay."

The woman's voice hit his eardrums, almost caressing him, and he instantly knew they were a stranger's.

"Can you draw the curtains?" He almost whispered, afraid that he won't be able to recognise his very own voice, he hadn't heard it in days.

"Sure, sir."

With the sound of curtains taking over the venomous sunlight, he felt a little closer to home.

He sat there, looking at nothing, feeling absolutely nothing and wondering if he tried really hard, would he end up thinking nothing?

"Sir."

"Yes, yes?"

"You're at M.G Hospital, you were found by the pizza delivery guy, passed out on the floor. Is there anyone we can contact?"

Is there anyone they could contact? He didn't know. The question seemed to stay on his hair, refusing to wash away, just like the smell of booze, vomit and sweat that stuck to his skin like leeches.

"Sir?" The nurse seemed impatient now, just like every single second's hand. He had always preferred watched which only had two hands, they made more sense to him.

"Yeah, you can call Kabir, he is my flat mate. The number's in my cell." A mechanical voice erupted from his mouth, the words came out almost without his permission.

"Okay."

He waited for her to inquire about payments, but she just smiled and looked at him politely. She didn't leave, and after a few moments it clicked him.

"Police officers want to see me?"

She nodded slowly, as if embarrassed and he assumed she must be an intern.

"Bring them in, then." He said, giving her a slight smile that felt like moving a heavy weight by his lips.

She gave a last smile before turning away and walking off; and he was left alone with his nothingness for about fifteen minutes.

Two constables strode in, one taut and muscular and the other donning a pot belly.

"Mr. Pradhyum Nema;" The athletic one and who looked in charge, addressed him.

He nodded.

Ten minutes later, the officers had bid adieu, satisfied that he wasn't some sort of drug dealer or part of any gang.