Birds of a Feather

two

The next thing I remember, my body was sore, to put it kindly. It felt like I was recovering from being processed through a meat grinder. Or like I had been railed by a truck. My environment smelled... sterile? The best way to describe it. My senses slowly came back to me one at a time, I began to feel paper-like bedsheets wrapped around my body tightly. In a way that made me feel almost cozy. I could feel tubes under the sheets, too. Down my legs, around my arms, exiting my nostrils. I wiggled my toes and fingers to get a feel for my surroundings. I could hear distant voices, constant beeping. I was starting to realize where I was. Opening my eyes only confirmed my suspicion.

I was in a hospital. I looked at my heart monitor and watched for a few moments. The steady pacing of the beeps confirmed that I was alive. I was still in a dreamlike state. The heart monitor looked to me like an old video game. The lines jumping over the sound of the stagnant beep. The movement entranced me, almost. Then suddenly my trance was broken by a voice.

"Dylan, are you awake?" came the voice.

I immediately recognized the voice. My mind and body felt a boost of adrenaline. I froze. Almost like a cat, when a strange abrupt noise disturbs its peace. Did I dare look? I heard my heart monitor quicken. It couldn't be. I mean, what fresh hell was this? I had to be dreaming... I mean he couldn't be here.
What if he was? I couldn't even begin to fantasize my reaction. Anger? Pain? Love? Betrayal? Which would come out first?

"Dyl?" the voice came again.

At that, I knew it was real. Jack, here in the flesh. The man whom I had loved dearly, who despite all odds I still did love. The man who broke my heart and got with my best friend. He was here. At my bedside. The first thing my disoriented self wakes up to in a hospital. How could I deal with it on any regular occasion, let alone swathed in hospital sheets with my bare ass hanging out of my nightie? Suddenly, I was very angry. This gave me the courage to finally turn over and see him sitting in the chair adjacent from my bed.

There he sat, so defyingly handsome. The devil in sheep's clothing. His face had creases from worrying. Which he deserved. But also didn't have a right to wear.

"Don't you dare call me that. It's called an affectation for a reason. Only people who give a fuck about me can call me Dyl. Now get the hell away from me," I spoke through clenched teeth. Looks like my initial reaction would be anger after all. My blood was hot with fury. I felt like I wanted to scream. I clenched my fists for fear of tearing him limb from limb.

I could hear my heart monitor going crazy. I watched as Jack's eyes nervously flitted to the heart monitor and back at me. He then looked towards my saline bag and IV. He looked scared. He ought to be.

"Look, you need to calm down. Right now," he used his hands to gesture serenity. But this pompous suggestion made me even more irate.

I shot myself out of my bed. Tugging a tube or two with me. "YOU DON'T GET TO TELL ME TO CALM DOWN. YOU BROKE ME. YOU KILLED ME."

My hands wildly flailed in my distress, and in that moment, my IV bag exploded. Dowsing my hair and nightgown in salty water. As it landed on my skin, it sizzled. Steam evanesced wildly into the air. Jack crossed the room towards me and put his hands on my shoulders.

"Please, Dylan. Please calm down," Jack was close enough now that I could see his hazel eyes through his glasses. And they were terrified. Begging me to understand something. "DOCTOR! PLEASE!"
"Get. Your. Hands. OFF OF ME!" I shrieked, and shoved him away with surprising force. In the skirmish, as my hand swung to push him again, red fire shot out of the palm of my hand. What the fuck? The curtains of the window caught flame as I stood, dumbfounded, staring at the palms of my naked hands. I was confused, terrified, and angry. But the feelings of puzzlement shrouded my ferocity enough for me to calm down and stop making things explode and catch on fire. Yes, it is me causing this. I heard pounding feet slap the tile as they ran down the hallway. As I looked up from my hands, I saw doctors and nurses running towards me. Jack stood in the far corner, horrified. The hospital staff stopped in their tracks as soon as they entered the doorway. I felt a warm tear escape my eye and steam off of my face. I was shaking intensely. I turned my body so that I could face the mirror.

Staring back, it was me. In my hospital gown with deflated blue and green hair. My roots had two months of regrowth, casting a dark halo-like effect around my bedraggled features. Tears were streaking down and sizzling off of my freckled face.

Oh yeah, and there were also the giant black wings to frame my dramatic curves, making me look so, so small. And so, so frightened. Which I was.

I looked slowly and hesitantly back to the doctors who were just as dumbfounded as I was. One brave doctor stepped forward. His hair was speckled with grays, and wrinkles creased his leathery skin. His voice was smooth, like liquid gold.

"Dylan, we're not going to hurt you. Why don't you lay back down. Your dad and sisters are on their way up from the cafeteria and we can explain everything to you,"

I'mnot sure how, but I felt some sort of relief from this doctor. I looked to hiscoat which read Dr. James Frobisher, Phd.I brought myself back to my bed, tucking my wings to press into my backwith natural ease. I pulled the covers up to my chin. "What happened to me?"