I Had You (Petetrick Oneshots)

Why Can't They See Me?

I couldn't move. I couldn't open my eyes. I couldn't move my hands. My throat was dry and it hurt to breathe. I needed water, but first I needed to move. Move. I needed to move. Why couldn't I move?

Although I was unsure of what was happening, I felt like I was just waking up, and from that, I could guess I had been in some state of unconsciousness. As more time went by, I still couldn't move, but I was becoming more aware of my surroundings. Foreign smells of harsh chemicals and loud, irritating beeping registered in my brain. Squeaky footsteps on linoleum floors. Hushed chatter. Doors opening and closing.

Where am I?

Once again I tried to force my eyes to open. That was step one to figuring out what was going on. Focusing every fibre of energy in my being into lifting my eyelids, I felt them flutter slightly, but they didn't open.

Are they already open? Am I blind?

I tried again, and this time they opened for a few seconds, revealing blinding light.

"Patrick?" Someone calls from beside me, initiating more chatter in the room. Too loud. It was too loud and there was too much noise.

"Shhh." The sound left my mouth as a quiet hiss, but the talking stopped. People were moving around near me.

"Patrick? Can you hear me?"

"Mm." I hum, willing my body to let my eyes open. Suddenly one of them was forced open, and a too bright light filled my vision. I started blinking quickly to clear the light, and it went away, replaced with shadows hanging over me.

I opened my eyes!

"Patrick!" A woman that I now recognised to be my mother smiles. "You're awake!"

"Wa-"I croak, my voice dying in my throat. "Wa-t-"

"Hold on honey." A woman I didn't recognise helped me to sit up, propping me up on pillows.

"Wat- wat-er."

"Oh yes, hang on." The nurse picks up a cup with a straw and brings it to my lips. "Don't guzzle it, small sips."

Restraining myself from drinking it all at once, I sip at the water, looking around the small room. I could now identify that I was currently in hospital. Everything was white. White linoleum floors, white shiny walls and a white roof with too many, too bright lights. There were machines and green plastic chairs either side of my bed, and a basin in one corner. My eyes graze over the other corner as I turn to the window, but stopped short, head snapping back to the corner and locking in on the teenage boy sitting there. His eyes widen as he realises I'm staring at him.

"Wh-o?" I weakly attempt to lift my arm to point to him, but can barely curl my fingers. Both the nurse and my mother turn to look in confusion, sharing looks as they turn back to me.

"Patrick, there's no one there . . ." My mother frowns, a look of concern crosses her face.

"B-but-" I protest, the boy at the back of the room standing up.

"You can see me?" He asks, black hair flopping over his eyes. I manage a nod. His mouth dropped open a little. "You can see me."

"Patrick?" Mum asks.

"He's ri-gh- the-r-"

"Honey, there is no one there, where are you looking?" The nurse asks gently.

Why can't they see him?

This time frustration enables me to lift my arm enough to point at the boy. Mum and the nurse look again.