Sing Me To Sleep

Chapter 24

Mikey Way.

Mikey.

Way.

The two words seemed to be combining as one, even as I slowed them down, enunciating each individual syllable and pausing between. They seem too heavy on my tongue, weighing it down, which is when I resort to repeating the name in my head. My bare feet scuff the cool tile, wearing an invisible pattern into the off-white floor. I can see the sun setting on the horizon, sending ripples of pale yellow and pink filtering throughout the room and illuminating the otherwise dark atmosphere.

"Who is Mikey Way?" As the words fall, almost silently from my lips, I have the strangest sense of deja vu. Like I've walked this line before, spoken these words, contemplated these thoughts.

I sigh heavily, running a hand over my face and closing my eyes. It's painful in a way, not being able to recall simple, mundane things. It feels like there's a section of my brain that's missing. No, not missing. Hiding. I know it's there, on the tip of my tongue, but I can't find it.

I don't notice when the sun finally disappears behind the various New Jersey buildings, fading off in the distance and casting dark shadows across the floor. My feet seem to move by their own will, pushing me to pace the same straight line that I've been walking for what must have been hours. My mind feels exhausted and overactive at the same time, repeating what I only half remembered and willing myself profusely to recall the rest.

Hiding.

Perhaps I can't find the right memories because I'm looking in the wrong places. Maybe I'm looking for the wrong things. 

"Dude, what are you doing in the dark?" The voice registers only a second before the burning overhead light flickers on. I flinch against the fluorescence, the white light actually hurting my eyes and I raise a hand to cover them, letting out a slight groan.

"I was busy," Is my only vague response as I squint against the artificial light and move somewhat mechanically to the bed. I sit down on the rough sheets and cross my legs, Ray coming farther into the room and shutting the door behind him.

"You were too busy to turn on the light?" He scrambles onto the mattress across from me, one leg bent in front of him while the other dangles off the side of the bed, and drops a plastic bag on the blanket between us. I don't ask what's in the bag, just nod my response to his previous question. "And what were you busy with?"

"Trying to remember." The statement is so simple and yet so very complex at the same time and Ray just bobs his head in understanding. He looks down at the baggage and starts unloading the stash. He hands me a stack of paper and I flip through a few pages, cocking an eyebrow. "What's this?"

"The visitors log," Ray states and runs a hand through his hair. My eyes promptly widen as I glance back at the sheets. There has to be at least a hundred pages here and each page indicates thirty names per sheet. "I didn't know exactly what I was looking for," He explains and continues unpacking the bag. "So I got everything. That's the log for every day you were in a coma. They make visitors sign in at the main desk and then point them in the right direction."

A huff of breath leaves my chest in the form of an incredulous laugh. Glancing down at the log, I see names, dates, and times. No floor numbers, no patient names. "So this is a list of every single person who visited someone at the hospital in the last two weeks."

"Yep."

I sigh, already feeling exhausted. "This is going to take all night."

Pulling out a can of Monster, he hands it over to me, producing one for himself as well. "That's why I brought these." He shrugs, shuffling through a few of the log sheets. "And besides; At least we have something to go on now. We know who we're looking for."