REVIVE ▸ d. winchester [2] ✔

Chapter 28

Dean's POV

A groggy feeling washes over me as I slowly begin to regain consciousness.

I can't open my eyes right away. My body seems to wake at it's own pace, leaving my mind in a disoriented state. But soon, I can hear a steady pattern of beeps next to me. They sound with the beat of my heart, which I can practically feel jumping out of my chest. The tone's pace quickly begins to pick up, pulling me out of my sluggish condition.

It's when the sounds begin to blur together into one that I finally hear something other than the incessant beeping. With my eyes still closed, I make out the sound of a door opening. The feeling of hands on my arms soon follows, then a rush of bitter coldness on my face. With so many sensations flooding my mind at once, my eyes can't help but finally fly open.

Fluorescent lights immediately blind me, but I can still make out two outlines hovering around me. To my left, a middle aged man stands with a clipboard braced tightly in his hands. He stares down at me, watching me closely as if searching for any sign of movement, any trouble with my breathing. And to my right, a younger woman dressed in scrubs stands a bit closer, holding something against my forehead. 

"Deep breaths, Mr. Walsh," the woman says calmly. "In and out." 

Mr. Walsh?

Her hand moves against my head, lifting a cold cloth away from my skin and placing it back down. The sharp coldness pulls me further to attention, and soon, I'm fully aware of where exactly I am. I come to realize, too, that I must have had one of my fake identification cards in my wallet, naming me a Mr. Evan Walsh from Brookings, South Dakota. Eventually, the beeping of the heart monitor slows to a steady pace again, and the two professionals in the room fall out of their tense state. 

"It's good to see you awake so soon, Mr. Walsh." The man, a doctor presumably, steps forward and sets his clipboard down on a bedside table. "With a head injury like that, we expected at least another day."

"How long?" I ask, and to my surprise, my voice is terribly hoarse and in desperate need of water. I try my best to clear it. "How long have I been here?"

"We picked you up two days ago just outside Lovewell State Park. You're at Jewell County Hospital. A man and his wife stumbled across you and, luckily, were able to call emergency medical help just in time." He stops and gestures to my hands quickly. "Any longer out in exposure like that, your frostbite would have been much worse."

It's then that I notice that both of my hands are wrapped in delicate, warm fabric. A soft, tingling sensation runs through each of my fingers and across my palms, the heat seemingly thawing my skin. At the end of the bed, I find both of my feet in the same situation, sticking out from underneath a heavy blanket. 

"We've been able to treat most of the affected areas. It'll take time for full recovery, but good news: no amputations necessary." The doctor's joking goes completely over my head as I stare at my hands and feet, thinking back to the horrible numbness I'd endured in the woods. I'd felt as if I were freezing to death. My shivering had been uncontrollable, yet somehow I was going to be perfectly fine with time.

"We've also stitched up a nasty cut," he adds, lifting up the wrap around my left hand to expose dark stitching in my sickly pale skin. The skin is tender and slightly swollen, but I'm able to slowly wiggle my fingers. I don't dare to make a fist as I know well of the painful stinging that comes with moving fresh stitches. The doctor places the warm wrapping back down against my frostbitten skin before I can count the number of stitches he'd used in my hand. "We can take those out in a week or so, as long as you keep your hand rested and the stitches clean."