Disorientation

Chapter One

Darkness encapsulated me, shrouding me like an inky blanket. It was suffocating. Claustrophobic. My life was a vacuum. A canvas of nothingness.

Where am I?

Then voices. Hushed tones and watery sighs. I could faintly hear the words.

"... she wake up?"

"... hard to tell... be this week. We still... for more tests."

"It's been ages... doesn't wake..."

The words were clunky and disjointed. But there was nothing I could do to hear them clearly. Being in limbo was strange; I was aware of my existence but couldn't act upon it. Muted sensations throbbed through my body. I willed myself to open my eyes, to discover who was beside me, but my entire body was as heavy as lead.

Then a door closed. Silence and darkness loomed again. My mind drifted and before I knew it, I was pulled back into unconsciousness...

My eyes opened to stark whiteness. White furniture, bright white lights and a white door.

"Oh my God, she's awake!"

The booming voice rattled my eardrums. I faced the direction of the noise to see three blurry figures by my bedside. Then a body shifted into view: a white man in a white cloak.

"Hi Erica. I'm Doctor Smith. You've been asleep for a very long time. Can you blink for me?"

I blinked rapidly, my eyes still adjusting to the fluorescent light.

"Good. Excellent. Can you speak?"

I opened my mouth to respond, and a searing pain gripped my throat. I shook my head.

Doctor Smith's expression told me he expected this. "Not to worry. We'll get you some water. In the meantime, I'm going to check your vitals. Just relax."

As he shone a light in each eye and checked my blood pressure, all the dull sensations in my body came to surface. My back was incredibly sore, my limbs weak, my head hot.

But it wasn't the headache and numb body that bothered me, it was something much more internal: my brain. It felt... vacant.

I glanced at the three strangers who were anxiously watching me. One was middle-aged with a face worn from stress, the other two were young teens.

I peered down at myself. I was wearing a white robe, lying atop a narrow white bed. It was unusually firm. Not the good firm that supported the back, but a bad firm that felt similar to lying on cardboard.

The air was stuffy yet sterile. The beeping equipment at my bedside was distracting, but it told me that something serious had happened to me. But what?

What the hell is going on?

A nurse eventually gave me a cup of water. With the help of Doctor Smith, I pushed my body up into a seating position. I drank the water and strangely felt revitalised. My throat opened a little, and I coughed the rest of the phlegm out.

"Erica..." The older woman stepped forward. She looked as though she wanted to touch me, but there was worry in her eyes. Then, slowly, she reached forward and stroked my cheek with her thumb. "I can't believe you're awake."

I cleared my throat and struggled to whisper: "Who's... Erica?"

Everyone froze. The woman looked to the other strangers before shooting a questioning glare at Doctor Smith, who had been writing something down on a clipboard. He perked up instantly and was by my side in a flash.

"What year is it, Erica?"

The question threw me off guard. I tried to search my brain for something as simple as the year, but nothing came to mind. Everything was blank.