Oblivion

3

It was almost a week before Dan was up to sitting up in bed and beginning the long process of getting better. Uptil then he had been tube fed, wired up and half asleep. Physically his body would eventually be fixed. But his mind would forever bear the trauma of the last four years. The nurses had shaved his head and beard and clipped his long dirty nails. Yet this only served to make him look skinnier and sicker.

Kyle had come in every day, from morning until night to sit with him. Whether Dan wanted him there or not. His parents had collapsed at his bedside. They had only ever dared to dream of seeing their son again. Many tears had been shed. Yet Dan just lay there, staring up at the ceiling, not responding. Countless doctors, physicians, psychologists had attempted to help him, yet he seemed beyond caring. Kyle had spoken to him for hours on end. Telling him everything he'd been up to, what their other friends had been doing, and reminding him of their efforts to find him and how much he'd been missed.

But Dan didn't want to listen. He didn't want to get better. He didn't want all these people around him. And as the days wore on and he felt more awake, more alert, it only increased his desire to give up. He was now even more aware of what he'd done. The memories had all come flooding back to him in his dreams.

Sam, please? I'll get help. I'll go right now.

It's too late Dan. I can't do this. I can't be with you.

It felt as real and as painful as the first time. He'd woken up, shouting, crying out. But he was alone in his room, the ward nurses all busy and too far away to hear him. He was sweating profusely, his whole body soaking wet. It had taken almost an hour to realise that it had been a dream. He had smelt her. He had felt her soft skin as he grabbed her wrist. He touched his cheek where she had slapped him. It felt hot, just like it had when she had done it in real life.

There was no getting back to sleep after that. He lay and watch the sun come up in the distance beyond his window. Slowly the red glow filled his room, illuminating his face. The light shone through the vase of flowers on the windowsill and an idea bloomed in his mind.

He put his legs out the side of the bed, painfully lowering them onto the floor. It was only a couple of steps, but he could barely make it. He clung onto the sink, all his strength being sapped by the simple task of keeping himself upright. He reached the vase and smashed it against the wall. The water drenched the floor and the bottom of his pyjama trousers, the petals clinging to his toes. He gave in to the exhaustion and slumped onto the floor. There was a shard, about five inches long. He grasped it tightly and in one quick move, slashed at his left arm. Blood instantly spilled out and Dan sighed with relief. He lay his head down on the wet floor, watching the blood and water mix together.