Corrupt

Chapter 6 - Waking Up

I wake up laying flat on my back on the comfort of a mattress. The ceiling above me is cracked and the plaster is pealing in fine wafers which remind me of the dry skin on my mothers worn face. My mother. Where am I? Ever so slightly I flex my fingers, then subtly, my wrists. They are not tied down, although there is not much feeling in them either. I wiggle my toes and ankles to find that the only thing keeping them from flailing around is a scratchy blanket, which ends are tucked in tightly beneath the mattress. A sharp pain shoots from my right ankle, up my legs and spine, and slams into my head like a lightening bolt. I let out a loud cry, unable to control the pain, as two people appear suddenly besides me. One is a woman, who places a cold and damp cloth to my forehead, and sooths me with her sweet voice that whispers, "There now, it'll pass. You're okay." Her calmness reassures me and the tight pressure of her cold hands squeezing mine helps to cope with the pain. 

The second person see's to my ankle. I cannot tell if it is a man or a woman, child or adult. They gently maneuver my ankle, I assume, so they can get a better look at it. It can't be for my benefit though, because every touch sends a new volt of pain through my body, and I release another whimper. "Get the morphine, Dalles." The person seeing to my ankle says. It's the same voice that danced with me in the ballroom, the same voice that whispered to me in the alley, and then again on the alleyway floor. It's him. His voice is less horse now and has a slight pleading tone to it. 

The woman named Dalles lets go of my hands and runs to the other side of me, fixing a drip to the inside of my elbow. I move my head to the right and blinks furiously to move the tears from my eyes to get a better look at what it is. Attached to a tall silver stand there is a bag of clear liquid labled 'MORPHINE.' Relief comes all too quickly and for a second my head is sent spinning into a blissful, painless state. "Not that much, Dalles!" The man exclaims. The two bodies bumble around the me, rushing from my head to my toes, but I take hardly any notice now. The drip opens my mind but closes it at the same time. The room spins around me, and I spin with it. Dancing like a ballerina nailed to a jewelry box as the white flakes of plaster in the ceiling snow down upon me and catch in my eye lashes and hair. More bumbling, more quick chatter, but I take no notice. I can't focus on anything but the snow that falls over me, blanketing me from the harsh memories of the night in the alley. Soon even the dancing room and soothing snowflakes are too much, and my mind shuts down completely into a once again, dark dark space.