Acrid Tastes of Fear

Chapter 4

I never thought this is what heaven would feel like…I felt no pain through my confusion. My neck ached and I felt I had to strain to gaze around the room, my body felt numb, is this how it’s suppose to feel? The room was long and rectangular, the sunlight was blocked out by pale pastel coloured curtains which looked like the remains of my nanny Aprils table cloth. Why wasn’t she here? She died exactly 10 years ago, surely she'd be here to greet me, or maybe this was hell? No, everything was too clear almost opaque looking. My ears rang but as I focused I could hear a faint beeping in the distance. Where was I? Then it dawned on me, this was St. Michael’s Hospital. I remembered because I’d been here numerous times before nana died. The smell was the same, the strong overtake of bleach filled my nostrils along with the over whelming smell of home made meals on wheels. I'd survived, but I still didn’t feel secure…safe even. Where were the nurses? The authority. I needed reassuring, my heartbeat picked up rapidly like I was on the waltzers or just finished a marathon. The beeping got closer and drummed into my mind before I blacked out again, dreaming on spaghetti straps and long walks down the beach. Now that was heaven. After what seemed a lifetime, I roused around again and my eyes were glued on to the aertex patterned ceiling for about five minutes. I allowed my brain to settle and I finally come to terms with myself actually being in a hospital. I scanned the room, taking in every detail. I noticed how there was plenty of room to move about, but nowhere to get comfortable, how sterile and somewhat intimidating the room itself was and how cold it gets at night. I hate hospitals. I actually detest going there for the smallest of things like monthly check ups. They’re so functional, morbid and institutional. And now look where I’ve ended up… in a hospital bed covered with a thin blanket that smelt like old people. However, the room I’m in does have it’s homely aspects. For example, on the opposite side of the room, strategically placed in the middle of a chest of cabinets sat a vase of tulips. This makes me feel at home because my mother is absolutely infatuated by them and has them placed all across the house. What makes them so special? Is it there appearance or smell? I can never understand that. It’s just a plant, get over it, ha. To get my mind off the subject of being operated on or being injected with a humungous, sharp and painful needle, I turned my heard to a window that overlooked Illinois. Oh how Chicago is beautiful at night. It’s as if a black piece of velvet had been draped over the sky and sprinkled with shinning gems. That’s what makes it so special at night. My concentration was interrupted as I heard footsteps suddenly advance to the door of my hospital room. I saw the shadow of a pair of feet at the bottom of the door and I watched closely as the door handle started turning slowly and unhurriedly. Who is this? I clenched the bedcovers in the palms of my hands and sat there nervously and I felt my heart bang against my chest as if it was a hammer against cloth. To my relief, it was a Nurse with a clipboard who as soon as she saw I was awake, smiled widely, showing off her perfectly white teeth. Beams of perspiration trickled down the side of my head and I gave out a cacophonous sigh. “Boy, am I pleased to see you” I said with relaxed eyes and brows. “Sorry to disturb you but I just have to check if you’re suffering from any migraines, stomach pains or anything that hurts you physically” she replied in a snappy tone. “Um, no I’m not, why? What happened to me today?” I asked feeling more inquisitive than ever. However, without a response she gave me an acerbic smile, turned to the door and left. My questions remained unanswered. Why was she being so strange and petulant? Is she simply inexperienced or a down right, snotty, pain in the butt? If she was having a bad day, why did she feel the need to smile as she walked through the door? I don’t care. I mean, I’m no Sherlock Holmes but she’s hiding something and I’m going to find out what it is…

I wiped my eyes and moved my hair from my face and behind my ears. I grabbed the blanket and fiercely pulled it off, leaving the cold draft that was blowing from under the door stabbing my legs, like a thousands needles penetrating my skin. I stood up grabbing the drip for support. My legs were weak and I felt an unwanted headache kindly invite itself into my head. I was in pain. My ribs felt bruised, my fingers were numb and clammy and my head was spinning at a hypersonic speed. It’s like everything around me was pulling me into a direction I wasn’t intending to go. Somewhere that made me feel quite dismayed and evoked the fear and anxiety trapped inside of me. What was this place? Where ever it was, it wasn’t somewhere I wanted to go and it wasn’t somewhere I would plan to go anyway. It was dark. I abominated going there and I pulled myself back from walking into that wrong direction, using every bone in my body to fight it. I was back again, in the real world. I concentrated hard on the door. It seemed so far away but very little distance. How could that be possible? I don’t know. My main objective at this present moment was opening that door. I took 3 large steps and I was there. I took a deep breath in and let it out. I grabbed the door handle, waiting a couple of seconds for the coldness of it to chill my hand down. I felt as hot as an oven and I could feel myself burning up minute by minute. I twisted the door handle and swung the door open, dragging the drip with me every step I took. The corridors were dark and uncanny. You would expect that in a hospital though. Wouldn’t you? I excogitated my answer.

Everything was a blur. It’s like someone had erased my memories and stored them in a glass box for preservation but kept the ones I didn’t want kept. My palms was sweating as I followed the twisting corridors. It was like walking through a maze but being able to absorb more detail and objects you wouldn’t expect to see scattered in a maze that had only one way out. “Hello, is anyone here? I need your assistance” I called from the top of my voice, hoping someone would respond. No answer. Silence. I started to pick up my pace and as I turned the corridor, I was facing a glass door which lead outside. It was open ajar and I bravely approached it. I must of had some balls considering I’m not actually fit enough to venture outside in the cold but humid air. I yanked the door back with an almighty force and twisted the lock. However, as I looked down, I noticed something quite odd. Something I distinctively…remember. It was a small cross that fit perfectly in my hand. Even though I had seen this object before, I had to investigate more deeply into this. I scanned the area and noticed dirty footsteps leading me to and from certain rooms where patients had been sleeping, dreaming. I wish I was that peaceful at night in a hospital room. The footsteps finally come to an end. I reached a closed door and peeped through the square window. The room was unoccupied and after already wondering around a ‘deserted’ hospital in bare feet and bruised ribs, finding something I remember but can’t put my finger on it and following footsteps the size of an A4 piece of paper, I felt spontaneous. Was this the time to be adventurous though? I placed my palm over the door handle and swallowed. I flung the door open and a jar of flowers were left shaking, trembling from my quake. I walked inside and let go of the drip with conviction. I stopped at the bedside and after seeing no one was present, I examined the cross. Could it be a crucifix or just simply a materialistic possession for Christians? I flipped it over which made me shudder. It was a sticker the size of a fingernail that must have been passed on from someone else. Me. That sticker was the one from my bag, the bag I wore every day to school. The bag I was wearing when…I was attacked. But the thing was I can’t remember what happened! All I remember was someone heavy on top of me shoving a cross that was obviously the wrong way round in my frightened face. My heart quickened and missed a beat. I clutched my chest gasping for air. All of a sudden, without any hesitation what so ever, I jerked at the sound of a creaking door. My eyes widened and my mouth dropped. The door slam shut ferociously, making me jump out of my skin. I slowly turned my head around and there standing before me was the killer. Why did he leave me still breathing that day? Why didn’t he finish me off why he had the chance? I am no toy that doesn’t like to be played with and if he thinks he’s going to finish me off now, he can think again. I am not going to lose without putting up a fight. I looked at him, right in his face. I could see nothing but black. The hoodie draping over his face insinuates that he doesn’t want to be seen. I wanted to see who he was though. He giggled when he spotted my face. I was scared but not ready to give up. He walked towards me and I backed away. “Get away from me you diabolical, pathetic excuse for a human being. What do you want from me? LEAVE ME ALONE!” I screamed and started crying. They were tears of anger, not emotion. He whipped out his knife which had dried blood stains on it. Great. I’m going to be his next victim and considering he’s not processing anything I say to him, I have no other option but to be inspired by the smart thing I done when we met first on the bridge. Run…for my life.