Fragments

The Best Laid Plans

For at least the the eighth time he recall could since childhood, Daoming Si found his sight turned inexplicably white the moment his eyes flickered open.

It was a sensation Ah Si had never been able to grow accustomed to, regardless of how many times he found himself in the very same situation. He suspected it was some type of primitive reaction, a leftover fight or flight response from his ancestral line that screamed sterile white walls on all sides were inherently dangerous for a Daoming. If there was one thing he had never been able to abide, it was being caged and tethered like a flightless bird. He was a free spirit and he liked to roam; any type of institution made him instantly paranoid. His sharp nose wrinkled as the smell of surgical disinfectant stung his nostrils. The young heir was disorientated as he risked cracking open his other eye, only to immediately clamp it back shut in order to stem the watering. It was too goddamned bright, it was spearing him directly in the retinas and he couldn't see worth a jot. He always managed to do that, why didn't he ever learn? Some things just never changed.

Scratchy cotton chafed against the youngest Daoming's over sensitised skin as flopped his head back against his pillows in defeat with eyes squeezed shut, giving himself a swift mental pat down to assess the damage. The results were satisfactory; the injured heir concluded with acute relief that all his limbs were present and accounted for, even if they did feel as heavy as lead on the lumpy mattress. His movements kicked loose the smell of cheap laundry detergent from his depressingly thin eiderdown, which also meant it was increasingly difficult to breathe; it took a moment for Ah Si to find his bearings as he attempted to inhale around the sharp, pulsing ache the centred mainly around his midsection. The heir had largely lived a life of luxury and privilege; it was difficult to remember the last time he had felt so distinctly uncomfortable. Physically uncomfortable, anyway. Emotionally... well, that was an entirely different kettle of fish altogether.

Ah Si fidgeted awkwardly in an attempt to soften the bed, but to no avail; all he managed to achieve was tangling his flimsy sheets around his feet and digging himself into a further pit of annoyance. He was a Daoming, surely he should have been given the finest facilities money could buy - after all, it wasn't like he didn't have the insurance to cover it! The frustrated heir couldn't remember how he had even gotten there in the first place, but the familiar, gentle beeping and whirring of mechanical equipment just beside his head indicated that he was in the hospital. In and of itself, that wasn't really all that alarming; Daoming Si was a picture perfect train wreck when he wanted to be and this was not his first rodeo. However, there was an unexplained hollow pervading the cavity of his chest, a strange, panicked fluttering that gave him the sense this was no ordinary hospital visit. He couldn't for the life of him shake the sense of dread that gnawed at his bones; something really awful had happened, he could almost taste it. His fogged mind was just struggling to fine tune the details at present.

The hotel heir grunted quietly, the sound scraping his raw throat as memories trickled back to him in ragged, disjointed flashes that made his head pang as though stabbed straight through the temple. Wooden pole. Blood. What appeared to be an angel sobbing in terror as his vision turned black.... The hotel heir groaned again, his brain pulsing agonisingly in his skull. The pain was white hot and he was under siege as his synapses all rapid fired like guns with full magazines. Every last little particle of him ached, from the hair on the crown of his head to the smallest nail on his pinky toe. The mountain of pillows he resided against did absolutely nothing to ease the agony; no matter what position Ah Si twisted himself into, he still felt like he had been worked over bodily several times with a sledgehammer.

As far as Daoming Si could remember, his money wasn't far off the mark; a wooden pole had definitely been broken across back and his ribs were the poor victims who had suffered the consequences. He could still hear the crack of his poor bones and taste the salty rust of his blood as he gagged on it. Truth be told, Ah Si felt more than a little sorry for himself and yet... he knew he was forgetting something incredibly important. Something that mattered more to him than life and death. The memory of a pair of huge, gleaming chestnut eyes, glossy with the sheen of anguish and reddened by fear, speared through his memory like the cruel blade of a sharpened katana. The youngest Daoming's every nerve ending were as tensed as hunting dog as he suddenly shot upright as though suddenly electrified, his tormented brain finally recalling why he had risked his own skin so altruistically in the first place.