Aspen

Before Aspen

The first thing I heard was sirens. My mouth was dry and tasted of metal. Panicked onlookers were staring at me. My entire body throbbed, having come into contact with concrete far to fast for its liking. A sinking feeling engulfed my stomach. It had happened again.

The feel of a paramedic shaking me was unwelcome. I just wanted to lie here and sleep for a bit. I knew he wasn't going to stop, so I reluctantly forced my eyelids open, groaning as a way of wordless reassurance. The crowd gathered around me is blurry, as is the paramedics face. Audio has no purpose for me. I can hear, but I can't decode the sounds.

I'm forced to sit up far too soon. I try to warn the paramedic, but my mouth isn't working correctly. Pins and needles shoot down my body. My vision fades. All of the jumbled noises fall silent. I'm uncontrollably spiralling into the darkness.

Sirens. I groan. They're deafening. My mind is foggy but yet I still try desperately to figure out why they're so loud. My back. It's not on the hard concrete anymore. Where was I? It takes another minute before I realise the obvious. I'm in an ambulance. Fuck.

I awaken three hours later. My mouth still tastes metallic and I've got a migraine, but other than that I was restored. I open my eyes and study the room, trying to figure out which hospital I was in this time, but to no avail. Suddenly I crave the noise of the city street again. Even the siren was better than this stone-cold silence.

I roll over onto my side and stare at the door, trying not to let myself cry. I fail and spend the rest of my time sobbing into my pillow, waiting for someone to come find me.