Yin's Story

30

My eyes flutter open, my eyelashes sticking together. My vision blurred. I blink a few times trying to rid the blurriness from my eyes. My throat is dry and, my whole body aches. I stare at the ceiling unable to move my body. I have no energy left in me. I try calling out for somebody anybody. No sound escapes my lips. I try again calling out for my brother.

"...Sp..."

I can't finish his name. Just trying to talk makes me feel exhausted. I want my brother. I'm scared. I can't move, I can't speak, I can't do anything. Tears fill my eyes. My heart races, I feel weak. I'm terrified. I have no control. I want somebody to help me. My eyelids are starting to feel heavier. I can barely keep them open. I shut them not being able to keep them open any longer. I lay there on the floor helpless and afraid.

"Hey, kid. I don't know if you can hear me but, everything is going to be fine."

My eyes snap open. It's Spring.

"You're awake," he exclaims. "Here, drink this."

He tips a water bottle into my mouth. The cold liquid feels good on my dry throat. He helps me sit up leaning against the cold stone wall.

"Spring, what happened?" I asked.

"You're incision got infected, you were really sick."

"Infection? I felt like I was in a coma." I say.

"Well, you were out for about three weeks."

Three weeks! Jesus Christ! I take a closer look at him. His eyes are bloodshot and he's very pale. He looks very tired. Has he been taking care of me for the past three weeks?

"I thought you were dead, I thought I had lost another one," he says.

Another one? What does he mean? Is he talking about Golden? Or is he talking about someone else? I'm about to ask him about it when he shoves a metal spoon in my mouth. I swallow whatever was on the spoon.

"Alex brought you soup. I'm afraid it's cold now though."

He spoon feeds me until I push the bowl away. I yawn. Surprisingly I'm tired.

"I'm glad you're okay, Yin." He says sitting next to me. I lean against him. I notice that he's got a new jacket. It's black and very big. 

The last thing I see before I doze off is a name stitched on the breast pocket: 

Golden.