Mind Games

Chapter 2

Darkness.

That's all I really remember of what had happened last night. My shoulder feels sore, as if someone tried to pull it out of its socket.

I opened my eyes, squinting against the blinding sunlight that filled the room by way of the window. The smell of Lysol and cleaning products flooded my nose, making it extremely hard to breathe.

Where am I? Why am I here? What happened last night?

I lifted my right arm lazily, holding it above my face as my blurry vision cleared and I could distinctly make out tubes and wires.

I groaned at the realization that I definitely wasn't home.

I sat up quickly, feeling lightheaded and dizzy.

"Whoa, there! Slow down!" a nurse said as she rushed in to help me lie back down. "You wouldn't want to puke again would you?"

I gave her a quizzical look, "I... puked? When?"

I honestly couldn't remember anything that had happened in the past twenty four hours. I couldn't remember why I was here and who even brought me here.

She shook her head lightly, "We tried to give you food about two hours after the blood transplant."

She must have noticed my perplexed expression because she continued after a brief pause, "You're lucky to have a guy like your boyfriend. Not only had he tried to defend you in that Ghoul attack but he also donated some blood to you... You wouldn't have survived without him."

I pressed my palm to my forehead, feeling the deep throbbing in my temple. Thoughts and questions bombarded me, each one fighting to be the first one out of my mouth.

I stuttered something rather unintelligent, shocked when the nurse smiled warmly and slipped some bread into my hands.

"I know you're worried about him. You'll see him soon" she walked around the foot of the bed and to the door. "Eat up. You need to regain your strength to get better."

I stared down at the piece of bread and thought back on the story she had given me. Deep down I knew she couldn't be right. She was missing some crucial detail, one that I wasn't quite able to put my finger on yet.

I shrugged, bringing the warm bread to my mouth for a bite. I sank my teeth into such a familiar food only... the horrifying taste wasn't so familiar.

I coughed as my mouth filled with bile, choking me. I grabbed a trash can that sat at my bedside, allowing the vile liquid to slide down my tongue and into the trash.

Pulling my head up from the trash can, I wiped my mouth off with my wrist. I furrowed my brow in confusion. Bread shouldn't taste so foul.

I turned back to the bread that I had discarded in the struggle to grab the trash can. Grasping it as if my very life depended on it, I took a huge bite and swallowed it quickly, determined to get it down this time.

I gagged, tears filling my eyes and obstructing my vision. Desperation ripped apart my insides. Why didn't it taste the way it was supposed to? What was happening to me?

But it did go down. My throat burned and my stomach rumbled angrily. With every passing minute, the pang deep in my gut grew in intensity.

Finally I couldn't take it anymore. I snatched the trash can from off the floor. I drew in a deep breath, preparing myself. Opening my mouth wide, I reached in and prodded the back of my throat, hoping to trigger some gag reflex.

I retched, covering my hand with the entire contents of my now empty stomach. I relaxed and sat back, wiping my hand off with a paper towel. Anxiety washed over me, leaving me scared with a grumbling stomach.

I closed my eyes for a moment, only to have them snap open at the second of knock on my door.