When Dreams Consume Reality

03. Not a Bug

Like I said, Chitra isn’t the narrator here. The chapter’s written in 3rd person because not everything is visible to our female protagonist. ;)

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Something tickled his nose and when he tried to open his heavy eyelids to find out what it was that had broken his peaceful slumber, something akin to a thunder bolt seemed to rattle the inside of his brain.

He squeezed his half open eyes shut, but it only seemed to intensify the pain.

The next five minutes were the longest and the most agonizing minutes for him that he spent writhing in pain which had now spread to the rest of his body.

It was becoming hard for him to breathe with each passing second because along with the fresh air there came the thing which had previously caused the tickles.

Grass... Amidst the chaos, a part of his mind that had apparently retained some sanity registered that fact.

Suddenly faint voices and the sound of crickets and cicadas, carried by the wind, reached his ears that were throbbing.

His first instinct was to yell for the people he had just heard to come and help him.

But what if they’re the reason why I’ve ended up this way?

The more he thought (with extreme effort) about it, the idea of calling out for help seemed less appealing.

It was quite clear to him by now that he hadn’t been sleeping on a bed, but lying unconscious amidst wilderness.

Could those people he had just heard, done this to him?

All kinds of panicked thoughts invaded his battered mind, but one of them struck so hard that it numbed all of his sensations and everything else seemed irrelevant-- Who the hell am I?

After a lot of struggle he was able to roll on his back and faced the night sky, or rather, a canopy of long, thick branches. In this position he was able to breathe a little more freely and his foggy mind cleared little by little.

Speed...

He could remember the familiar adrenaline rush and how the wind would slap against his face, as soon as he released the... clutch?

Oh yes, I used to ride a motorbike.

But where is it now? He asked himself and tried to look around for his prized possession, but realised, a bit too late, that it had been a bad move. His neck hurt so bad that in an instant, tears pricked the corner of his eyes and he had to bite his lips to keep himself from wailing.

Again he heard those voices, but couldn’t gather the courage to move. Instead he concentrated on gaining his memory back.

But no matter how much he tried, he just couldn’t remember who he was or what had happened to him.

Fuck this! I’m going to confront those people, no matter what. It’s better to be killed than lying here trying to remember my fucked up identity!

He was beyond frustrated and to top it, the pain was unbearable, but there was one thing that he just knew, ran in his blood-- determination.

Conjuring all of his latent physical as well as mental strength, he crept over to the nearest tree and using its trunk as support, he lifted himself up in a sitting position.

As soon as the initial strain had worn off, he tried to ease his body and mind by taking a few deep breaths. He quickly examined his body for any visible injuries in the faint light that floated from a street lamp, a little far from where he sat.