Mafia

2 Lupin

My eyes fluttered open. I couldn't see anything. Not surprising since I'm practically blind without my glasses. I couldn't even tell what color the walls were. For a moment, I just laid there, trying to form a complete thought. My mind was really fuzzy, and it took everything I had to string a thought together. I know this feeling. I thought. It feels like the time I— I couldn't finish that train of thought. I was already beginning to panic. I took a deep breath, calming myself a little in the process. Breathe, Lupin. I told myself. Just because you feel groggy and don't know where you are doesn't mean you're – BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! A mechanical beeping interrupted my thoughts. I didn't even need to look to see that it was a vitals monitor.

I was in the Hospital. No. I thought. No, no. It's not real. This is a nightmare just like all the others. I went to rub my eyes. When my arm got closer to my face, I saw the bandages on my hands and forearm and the brace on my wrist. What really set me off was the IV in my arm. That's when all Hell broke loose.

Whatever drugs I might've been given were no match for the pure adrenaline flowing through my bloodstream. I threw off the covers and stood up, ripping out the IV in my arm. I still couldn't see, but I didn't care. All I cared about was getting out of here.

Suddenly, I heard a thumping sound coming from the other side of the room. I scanned the room, looking for a place to hide. Since I couldn't see more than three inches in front of me, I wasn't very successful. All I managed to do was limp into the far corner of the room and make myself as small as possible. It wasn't long before I heard a door open.

"Hello?" a woman's voice said, "According to the monitor—Huh?" I could hear the confusion in her voice. After a moment, I heard footsteps coming towards me.

"What are you doing over here?" she asked. I could hear the concern in her voice, but it didn't matter. This was a nightmare. At least, I hoped it was.

"Come on," she said, "let's get you back to bed." As soon as she put her hand on my shoulder, I swung my fist as hard as I could.

I heard an "Oof!" as I made contact with her body. I think her stomach. She stumbled back a little.

I squeezed my eyes shut and held myself tight.

"This isn't real," I whispered to myself, "This isn't real. This isn't real. This isn't real." I must've scared the woman because she got out of that room like a bat outta Hades. It wasn't long after she left that I heard the thumping of several people running towards the room, towards me.

Soon, the loud thumping was replaced with the sound of soft footsteps. One person.

"Hey," a familiar voice said. I opened my eyes and looked at the man that was now crouching on the floor beside me. I couldn't tell much about him beyond him being Caucasian and having dark hair. If he hadn't spoken, I wouldn't have even been able to tell that he was a man.

"It's okay," he said. Even with my terrible eyesight, I could tell that he was holding his hands up in surrender. "You're safe." He began moving closer, very, very slowly. All I could do in my panicked state was stare at him, or, near him, since all I could see of him was a human-ish shape. I shut my eyes and squeezed myself even tighter. I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder. I flinched and moved away as best as I could, but I kept my eyes closed. I was too terrified to look. I didn't want to risk seeing my worst nightmare come to life. I felt his hand leave my shoulder as soon as I flinched.

"It's okay," he said again, "I'm not going to hurt you. Do you understand?" I nodded, still refusing to open my eyes. He gently placed his hand back on my shoulder. I flinched again, but I didn't move away.

Even though my eyes were closed, tears were streaming down my face as I cowered in the corner. I don't know how long I sat there sobbing. When I couldn't cry anymore, I just sat there shaking from all of the frustration, pain, and fear I was feeling in that moment. For all I knew, the life that I'd worked so hard for, that I'd endured so much for, wasn't only gone, there was a chance that it never existed.

"Are you okay?" he asked. I shook my head. I definitely wasn't okay.

"Can you tell me what's wrong?" I shook my head. Whenever I panic, my ability to speak is the first thing to go, and I was definitely panicking. My hands were balled into tight fists and I couldn't stop rocking back and forth as I sat on the floor.

"Can you open your eyes?" I shook my head.

"Your hands are bleeding," he said. I opened my eyes and held my hands up to my face as I squinted, forcing myself to unclench my fists. He was right. They were bleeding. I'd been clenching my fists so hard that my nails had reopened the cuts on my palms.

"Will you let me take a look?" I shook my head. If my worst nightmare had come true and everything I'd endured and worked for had been for nothing, or worse a delusion, then I didn't care about anything anymore.

I don't know when the others came into the room, but, after some muffled discussion, I felt several sets of hands grab me and pick me up. I thrashed around and screamed, trying to get them to let go, but they were all too strong. It didn't take long for them to put me back on the bed. The entire time, I heard them talking, but I didn't catch what they were saying past "Hold her!", "Stop moving!", "Watch out!", and the occasional "OW!" whenever I managed to make contact.

I screamed as loud as I could. Tears fell down my face again. I could feel blood running down my arm from where I'd ripped out the IV. But I didn't care. I had to get away. I had to go back to before. I had to know that my life before wasn't a dream, or worse, a delusion.

Once they got me on the bed, they managed to hold me still long enough for someone to stick a needle into my neck. It didn't take long for whatever they gave me to start working. It became harder and harder to fight against whoever was holding me. Eventually, I couldn't fight back at all, but they didn't let go of me until I was completely unconscious. The last thing I remember before everything went black was the feeling of someone petting my hair while the familiar voice told me everything was going to be okay.