destined. | h.s

25. midnight aftermath

Ariella’s P.O.V

At this point, the only thing that I see is black, and the only thing I thought is what happened last night. To a great extent, only bits of midnight remained in my head . . . music, my best friends, the lads, Denver, fireworks’ sound.

Nothing made sense but a New Year Party.

I involuntarily made my left hand move, and then, in my perception, somebody held it. But I couldn’t put my eyes to open and see who it was, because I felt so damn weak but aware.

Then, my intention was to move my head a little to the right, but before I even made an inch of my rotation, I felt an excruciating pain cuff to my head. I had no control once again, now with my voice, I let out a bellow, nearly a groan.

“Oh, um, hey Ariella?” A man who’s voice uttered familiarity, deep and full of rasp, “Hey, calm down, relax,”

I feel his arms astride on both of mine, and carefully shifted my body into a surprisingly comfortable position. Yet, I couldn’t let myself get a vision of the white walls, attached machines and the thing I am wearing.

I can’t see any time soon of this head ache subsiding. I thought of my health, and how it was probably going downhill all of the sudden–meaning, brain tumours, clogged nerves and stuff like that.

Then, the door, I assume creaked. The thud of heels and sort of, clanking medical tools were heard. I found myself listening to a doctor or a nurse or somebody from the hospital, while she checks on my state.

I feel her thumb try to lift my lid, thankfully and finally. But I only saw this blonde doctor on her fine white coat with a flashlight hovering around my eye. I couldn’t abruptly move my irises now, to tell her I feel everything.

Is sudden and temporary paralysation a side effect?

She closed it again, ugh. Now, my external circumstances on getting myself feel more alive went down below sea level. I’m back to being a watcher of the blackout movie playing on my closed eyelids.

“Sir, your girlfriend,” I feel him shrug, but then he never corrected the doctor, “she is doing well with the medicines.”

I don’t remember taking down syrup or a tablet? Or maybe they just injected it without me having to feel it.

“But why did she suddenly pass out last night?” Good thinking, I should have been able to ask that, not with my heavy-feeling lips.

I, again, sense the woman going through her papers and spoke with her fine posh accent, “Well, it has something to do with whatever she ate last night or drank, that thing wasn’t something her body could take.”

Oh.

“Okay.”

The doctor must have gone out now, feeling that door was opened the heels click once again, with her hospital stuff that was not for me or I am just numb. I have decided to get myself to wake up, as in wide awake, because being blind and partly unaware is agonizing. Forcing myself, I feel something throb up on my head again, feeling tears depart my eyes.

I felt the pace of my breathing increase, while I try to get a proper grip of the mattress, the first time I moved a little properly after more than only about three hours? Whoever was guarding me the whole time, shuffled too, holding my hand muttering a few, “Are you okay’s” and “Relax,” none of which relieved the pain.

When I finally managed to open my eyes, the first thing that welcomed me, was yet another pain, too many white. I might have whimpered a little bit and almost got back to being coma-like.