Everything was black. It wasn’t there. There was nothing. Nothing except a dull ache that spread through my whole body but centralized in my head. I wasn’t able to move, just there, trapped in my own mind. And then a light, just a small pinprick of white. And then it spread. It grew and grew so that there was no longer any darkness. There were voices coming from the other side of it, I could hear them, distantly, too distantly to make out any words, but there. There was one thing, one word. Hamish. They said my name, over and over. Slowly I was able to regain control over my senses. It took a great deal of effort, far more than it should, but I was able to flicker open my eyelids. At first all that I could see was a blur of shapes and colors, but slowly they came into focus. I was in a metal hospital bed. There was another metal bed in the room, this one unoccupied. Next to my bed was a table with vase of flowers on top that were doing nothing to brighten up the pale and lifeless room.
To the side was a chair, and I was dimly aware that somebody was sitting in it, gripping my hand tightly. I followed the arm up to see Michael was sitting next to me, looking very tired but awake with dark circles under his eyes, his blond hair messy as if he hadn’t brushed it in a while. His eyes had lost much of their light, giving him a dead and faraway look.
I moved my gaze from Michael to the two other figures in the room. My parents. Both were slumped against the wall and they appeared to be asleep (though it was hard to tell with my father). Father had his legs drawn up close to his chest, one arm wrapped around his knees, the other resting lightly atop Dads. Dads head was resting on Fathers shoulder with Fathers head on his. As I couldn’t see Fathers eyes moving under his lids I assumed him to be asleep as well, which led to the questions of how long they had been there and what time was it. The second was easy enough to answer. Above the door was a clock which read a little after two in the morning, which just shows my parents disregard for the hospitals visiting hours.
I turned my attention back to Michael as he was the only one awake. "Michael?" I said, my voice hoarse from not speaking for a while. I squeezed his hand to get his attention and he looked down at me.
"You’re awake, thank god..." He smiled down at me, and I sensed it was the first time he smiled in days. Which reminded me...
"How long have you been here?" His smile broke into a serious expression that did not fit well on his face.
"Your father found you four days ago. Which reminds me, I should wake them." I reluctantly let him slip his hand from mine and watched as he shook Fathers shoulder lightly.
"What is it Michael? Are the nurses trying to tell us to leave again?" Michael shook his head.
"He’s awake." My father shook Dad awake and Michael sat back down next to me in his chair, my dad standing on the other side of the hospital bed while Father remained sitting on the floor.
"What happened?"
"You don’t remember?" I shook my head. My dad hesitated.
"Michael, would you give us a moment?" Michael eyed my dad then looked at me before nodding and going into the hallway. "Your father found you when he came home from a case. Drug overdose."
"Oh." And that’s all I said. Because that’s all I could say. Because the second that he said what had happened it all flooded back: the conversation with Father, my date with Sandra, how I went home and swallowed pill after pill until everything went black. I chanced a glance at Father who was staring intently at me. Our eyes met for a brief second before he glance glanced away quickly, staring down at the floor. I looked away, at anything but them.
"Oh? Is that all you can say?! What the hell was going through your head?!"
"John-"
My eyes focused on the clock above the door so I wouldn’t have to look at either of them. Unfortunately Dad continued. "I mean drugs?! You don’t even do drugs!"
