Sing Me To Sleep

Chapter 10

My eyes seem to glow from the inside. Even with the lids shut tightly, I see the surrounding luster of florescent lights. Their brilliance surrounds me, the rays of light seeming too harsh to my covered eyes. The scent of cleaning supplies fills my lungs in a nauseating wave. The two senses seem to hit me in an overwhelming rush and my head throbs. It feels like my brain is beating against my skull in an attempt to escape. I roll over, feeling the smooth rustle of sheets beneath me. 

Wait... Sheets? 

Though the blinding beams of the overhead lights seem to pierce right through my eyes, I force my lids open. It hurts and my vision is blurry, like I haven't opened my eyes in awhile. Still, I peer around the room, taking in all of my surroundings.

I'm in a hospital bed, tubes and needles violating me in different places, not hurting but feeling numb instead. The four surrounding walls seem too close to be natural, their beige colored floral design seeming to press into me and making me claustrophobic. A monitor beeps evenly to my right, letting me know I'm alive. Well, that's a good sign, at least. 

I push the sheet away, the one that was covering my body, and realize that I'm clothed in a hospital gown. Is this a memory? I rack my brain for what memory I might be reliving, but come up with nothing. Even with my father's persistent abuse, there weren't many trips to the hospital. There was one time, when I was twelve and my dad pushed me down the basement stairs. It wasn't the fall that hurt, but the concrete destination that awaited me at the bottom. My father had lied easily about how "those damn rugs have been tripping all of us" and he would make sure it wouldn't happen again. Of course, child services were contacted, just to be safe, but when my mother assured them that everything at home was peachy fucking keen, they let it slide. My father was right about one thing, though; He never let it happen again. Me going to the ER, that is. The abuse continued but, even if I was a bloody stump afterwards, the emergency room was never seen again. 

I focus back on the sterile room around me. If this isn't a memory, what is it? 

I turn on the bed, swinging my feet over the edge and letting them drop to the cool tile ground. The skin of my toes tingles at the sensation, but I ignore it. I let my slim fingers wrap around the metal pole of the mobile IV, pulling it along with me as I make my way across the room. 

Worry pits in my stomach, making it twist uncomfortably. Why am I worried? I'm safe here. I'm safe inside my own head.

My feet drag across the marbled tile, the only sound coming from the rolling IV. When I reach the door, I push it open slightly, peering out into the hallway. The corridor is empty, lights flickering above my head, like the way they do in a horror movie. Right before the guy with the pick axe kills everyone.

I bite my lip, trying to push the thoughts away once again. No way in hell did I want some psychotic killer manifesting in front of me. But as I step into the hall, I realize that might not be a problem.

The lights become a normal, blinding glow. The hallway loses the essence that makes it seem so scary and the smell of cleaning supplies assaults my nose again.

"No," The word feels weird on my tongue, falling from my lips in a clumsy fashion, like my mouth hasn't been used for quite some time. I find myself talking in my head instead. No, no, no! This can not be happening... Not yet. I'm not-- 

"Frank?" I feel a hand on my shoulder and nearly jump out of my skin. I turn quickly and I come face to face with a nice looking woman. She wears brightly colored scrubs, so vibrant compared to the dull color of the walls. She smiles warmly and my heart sinks. "I see you're awake."

Awake... 

I fight against the overwhelming ache that forces it's way into my chest and allow my previously interrupted thought to continue.

I'm not ready to wake up.