Black Smoke

Realization In Progress

Blurry.

I tried opening my eyes a couple of times, trying to blink into focus.

But everything was just blurry.

"...Naaaaame."

I blinked some more, white blurs continuing to race into view. My consciousness lifted, and it felt like my head was spinning, trying to detach itself from my body.

"Whaaaa-......naaaaaame?"

I tried to talk, but I tasted the bitter roughness of what felt like a busted lip. Funny how I was more familiar with that off instinctive measures alone. Or was that the constant throbbing of my swollen face? Wait...I couldn't feel my face. 

"Wha-..... "

"Youuuurrrr....whaaaaaats yooouurrr naaaa-..."

Was I in an ambulance? Why were the lights so bright? Usually, ambulances have their sirens blaring when they were transporting someone. Was I that far gone to not hear them?

"Whaaaaaats youuuurrrr naaaaaame?"

The paramedic's masculine voice became a little clearer for my hearing.

"Son! What's your name?"

Everything around me moved frantically, the vehicle speeding as usual. Now the siren reached me, telling me exactly where I was at the moment. 

"Zay...den."

My lips or lip- was swollen, and I couldn't exactly talk very quickly. Much less talk at all. It felt like I was buried in cement, weighing my body down with so much pressure that it was difficult to even breathe. The cooling air within the vehicle managed to seep through the smallest crevices my mouth allowed, but even then, it hurt. It hurt to stay awake. It hurt to stay aware. 

It hurt to keep living.

"Zay...den."

My eyes opened a bit, showing a tanned figure, but I wasn't able to glimpse at his features. It was like I was living a nightmare, one where I was confronted by a person whose face never came into view. The focus never cleared up, it never gave me a clear picture. I was just speaking with a...a bright shadow- if that made sense. 

"Zay Don? Is that correct, son?"

Son?

I shook my head, but quickly stopped as it throbbed with pain.

"Ugh!"

He motioned to me. "Just stay calm. You're gonna be alright. You're a little beat up. We got a call about you lying unconscious in the city park."

A little? I may have barely been conscious, but I remembered everything from that beating. As much as I didn't want to, I knew it would end up haunting me from this day forward. That's just how traumatic events worked. I've been jumped before, but never by this many, and never when I didn't see it coming.

"Do you remember anything? Getting attacked or something? Cause if so, I need to know. You're in real bad shape here."

I could've mentioned the beating, but from there, I'd have to explain why I went to the park in the first place. Which of course would lead to my father. Then, they'd find out about his drinking problem, and... Ugh, it was so stressful thinking about it all. I needed painkillers. 

"N-No," I lied. "I c-can't remember a thing."

His face contorted in a way, that much I knew. Perhaps he was expecting a different answer? Perhaps he was feeling sorry for me, which was the last thing I wanted.