Benevolence

Chapter 7: Ignore, but Forget me not

I'm dreaming again.

"We've got a pulse!"

But it's not the wet dream, nor the— "damn I wish it would last forever"— kind of dream. It's a memory, a memory turned nightmare. And I want out. Now.

"Alaina-- Alaina stay with me. You're in good hands," a soft voice bellows.

"We've got two casualties, and two in critical condition!" Exclaims another.

"Stay with me, honey." A hand finds mine, and I grip onto it weakly.

"We're losing a lot of blood!"

The voices, they're surrounding me, all urgent and unrecognizable. And I can't see. Snaking its way down one selective portion of my body, Pain robs me of all comfort, and like a virus, it thrives within the meek walls of my subconscious.

"Don't give up on me now."

I can't move, and when I try to open my eyes, bright white lights blind my vision.

"That's right. Just like that. Keep them open for me, hun. We're gonna get you through this, all right? You're gonna be okay—

--Don't be afraid," says a familiar voice. Dad? I turn towards the sound, even blindfolded by torment. "Don't be afraid," he says again. 

Where is he? Where's my mother? Are they all right? Are they in good hands?

"She's going into shock!"

"Alaina, wake up," someone says, rocking me softly.

"No," I whimper. I can feel myself being lifted, off of a stretcher, and onto another.

"We're losing her!"

"Lai, you're havin' a bad dream--come on, wake up."

"Don't be afraid..."

"Dad?" I sob.

"Strap her down!"

"Lai--

--Why are you helping me? Go help them first!" I screech, but they can't hear me. I feel my hands digging at my neck as my breaths ignite small fires in my chest. I'm thrashing uncontrollably, my head hitting against the bars of the stretcher, but soon something clamps down hard around my ankles, and then my wrists.

"Sir, the last thing we should do is restrain her."

"I said strap her down!"

Pain consumes me at every turn, and instead of writhing in it, my body is forced to fight it; my limbs pushing blindly at the restraints. But it's useless. The heaviness only spreads as hands press down on my knees, my forehead, my shoulders... until suddenly it feels like I'm falling, through the stretcher and onto a surface that knocks the wind out of me.

I spring up from the bed, gasping, panicking at the feel of hands on me.

"Alaina!"

"Get off of me! Get off of me!" I shriek, wincing when a sharp pain rushes to my head. I can't bring myself to open my eyes. I'm afraid of what I might see.

"Shit! Yo, Alaina, it's me!" Two hands cup my face. "Open your eyes. Look at me!"

Before me is a distorted and nebulous version of my room. I blink a few times, clearly spotting the two poles at the end of my bed, the vinyl collection displayed on the opposite wall, right above the record player sitting atop my bookshelf..."Drew."