Tied Down.

Rollercoaster that is called life.

A rhythmic beeping of machines and electricals, bounce into my ears, every beep like a tick of a clock in the morning when you don't want to wake up, but you have to.

I'm filled with an aching sensation throughout my body, my fingers from what I can tell are fuzzy and numb. Colours swirl on the inside of my eyelids, creating abstract patterns that could never be manipulated by a humans brush.
I always try to think of the perfect song or music to go along to the dancing lines. I can never think of one that matches the weird and unique movements.

My throat is really dry and so happens to be the thing that wakes me up fully.
A groan slips from my throat, scraping along my dry windpipe, causing even more pain.

"Dan?" A soft voice asks, a hand then holding mine with care, gentle finger tips dancing over my knuckles. Although it does feel strange considering they're numb.

Eventually I crack open my eyes, mentally praising that the room luckily isn't all bright and flashed with lights.

My vision is blurred. A familiar circumstance.

The room is spinning and I feel intoxicated, but I'm thinking clearly. It's frustratingly difficult to get my pounding head around what's happening.

A figure is sat beside my bed and across the clear room, three or two more, I can't really tell as they're all merging together.

"Hey sleeping beauty," the person sat beside me says with forced cheery sound in his voice. Why is he faking being happy?

As I blink my eyes at a continuos rate my vision starts the vaguely return and I make out the person sat next to me to be Pj.
"Peej," I croak, coughing a little which makes my throat burn like a sparkler.

He reaches over beside me before holding out a cup with a straw in. "Here, this should help." He says softly. I lean forward by a fraction and sip up the cold liquid.
It instantly soothes my throat and I feel one percent better.

My vision is almost fully back and that's when I notice the state that Pj is in.
Dark circles under his red, puffy eyes, hair tangled in a bush of curls. He looks terrible.

As I glance across the room I spot Chris, asleep next to two other guys who I don't know. They're all sleeping.

"How are you feeling? You've been out for a good few hours." Pj questions, still holding my hand. I clear my throat and squint my eyes shut from the roughness of it.

"I'm good I guess. Sore and tired." I reply with a subtle shrug.
Pj stares at me for a long time, searching my eyes as if trying to read my mind and know what I'm thinking.
It's a if he's waiting for me to say something else, to do something else.

As I stare back into his eyes, I see, sadness. I also see trauma.

I look away and search my surroundings. I'm in a fairly sized room with a bed and a small window. There's a chair in the corner with my clothes on since I'm now apparently in a hospital gown, for the first time since a few years back.
There's a single balloon on the opposite side of the room where Chris and the other two men are, it's words saying 'get well soon!'.

My toes poke out the end of the bed slightly cause I'm a giant and never fit in hospital beds. They always make them really small.
Then to my right is a bed side table, on it is a clock, a few chocolates and my phone. Hm, haven't seen that in a while.

But then resting above my phone is a picture.
A picture of Phil and I.

Phil. Phil!
Where is he?!

"Where's Phil?" I question with urgency. Pj breathes out almost in relief that I asked, before frowning.

He pulls his hand away from mine. "Do you not remember?" He asks.
Chris stirs awake and smiles when seeing me.
"Morning Chris," Pj mumbles as his friend walks over to sit beside him. I haven't seen him in a while either. Pj whispers into his ear and Chris swallows thickly, glancing to me before at the floor.