Catharsis

TWO

Darkness gradually brightens and turns orange. It must be sunlight on the other side of my eyelids. I dare to crack them apart, only to wince at the blinding light. It takes a few seconds for my vision to adjust. Blurry shapes flit in front of the pale blue sky, between branches. They're making an alarm clock sound. Blue jays? Definitely blue jays. Focusing closer, there's a cloud of tiny specks dancing around. Noseeums, mosquitoes, flies whirring and humming in my ears.

For one peaceful moment, everything just exists. Sunlight, summer breeze, birdsong; then something clicks in me. It's as if my soul fills up my body and in that instant, I'm struck with splinters of pain. Memories of last night come flooding back. Sensations of screaming, bleeding, agony. Sunlight is blinding. The heat of day clogs my throat. That birdsong was peaceful but now it's annoying as hell.

The bed of pine needles beneath me stick like poisoned pins as I writhe without relief trying to dislodge all the hurt from my body. Shuddering, I manage to turn onto my side and prop myself up to scan my surroundings. This isn't Lake Pauto. There's no lake here at all, just trees and brush. And I'm naked, covered in a coat of dirt and red flecks of dried blood.

"Wha-?" The sound of my own voice sends my heart up into my throat. It's a stranger's voice: damaged and weak, wearing the wrinkles and bloodshot eyes of a pack-a-day smoker. Suddenly, it's as if my lungs are being squeezed in a c clamp. I'm wheezing, trying to force some oxygen into me.

The tree trunks begin to soften into brown blurs and the arm supporting my weight shakes. A tense cramp latches itself into my intestines and the shadows of unconsciousness return. Tilting onto my back, I relax into the ground. It's all I can do not to throw up right here and now.

"Over here!" a distant voice exclaims.

"Shh! -- don't -- loud!" Is all I can make out from the garbled voices that are coming nearer. There are two of them now, mingling together. Their crunching footsteps quicken.

Through the pain, I sense gentle hands poking and prodding at me. I try to lift my heavy eyelids, but there are only obscure shapes, two blurry orbs floating over me.

"Are you okay?"

"It -- my -- it hurts." I groan, trying to take in oxygen, any oxygen.

Both voices conspire in whispers before they make the announcement: "We're going to get you help, okay? We're going to call an ambulance."

I lie on the pine needles in a thin sleep only vaguely aware of the presence of other people and the voices that seem to be multiplying by the minute. At last, a comforting weightlessness washes over me as my back is separated from the ground and laid on a soft flat surface. Warm July air zooms by me as I'm rushed away.

Urgent voices are shouting and I follow them across the darkness into bright artificial light. It shines down in rectangles that pass quickly over my head.

"Intubated," someone says.

"Ready," another adds.

As my senses awaken, I'm caught up in the sound of harsh, throaty breathing; the sound an animal might make on its deathbed. Tight fullness surrounds the piece of plastic in my gullet. I try to swallow but my neck spasms as if I'm gagging before I slip right back into the twilight zone.

Incessant beeping wails. Sammy's teary blue gaze peers above the curve of the oxygen mask that is sealed over my nose and mouth. There's a crease drawn between her eyebrows like she is trying to recover from a punch to the gut.

"He's awake! He's awake!" She lights up and wipes the tears off her wet cheeks with a sniffle. Spinning in a whirlwind, she splits into three clones. My eyes quickly roll back, bathing in the ache within my skull.