Stories for 100 Days of Writing

Trapped

Sounds came and went but he was unable to focus long enough to register what they were. He hung onto the sounds as long as he could before they faded and the inevitable drifts of sleep overcame him.

Sitting by his bedside, the woman held his hand and spoke softly, the only other sound in the room was that of the monitors which were becoming background noise to her now. She had spent six weeks within these white, artificial walls and had been forced to push the never ending beeps into her subconscious. The room was small with one window that looked across green fields to a town lying in the distance. Jess sat next to the bed, her dark skin in contrast to the white desert around her, watching and waiting to see if her son would pull through. Worry lay heavily upon her but it was more than just concern over her son, her whole demeanour seemed broken as if a great weight was pressing down on her.

Her surroundings seemed second nature to her by this time, everything white except for the bed, sterile silver and a bedside cabinet made of teak, breaking the clinical look of the room like a chink of hope. Jess could almost feel the knots and rings in the wood because of its familiarity to her. On the cabinet were a jug of water and a glass standing on ceremony waiting for Simon to wake up, to require their contents. There were cards also, trying to break the oppression that had settled here, but to no avail. The window did at least offer a glimpse into the outside world but only enforced in Jess the passing time. Each day she would watch the daylight fade and street and car lights gradually begin to pierce the darkness. The trees had gradually turned from green into various shades of autumn and the days grew shorter.

Nurses in their soft shoes would appear, seemingly from nowhere to check on Simon, the blue doors with their chipped paint opening and closing on a regular basis, almost on their own. They had all suggested at one time or another that Jess should go home and get some rest but she would only go home long enough to shower, change and maybe grab a snack and then she would return to her vigil. The staff didn’t understand why, but Jess, every time she went home replayed the scene in the house that day; the decision she tried to force him into before he stormed out and rode away on his motorbike, to face an accident that brought them both to this place. She knew now that nothing her son had done deserved this, the argument so petty now in hindsight, not worth losing a life over.

Again consciousness broke through for Simon, shadows, voices, footsteps, all such a long way away. There was no sense of time, just strange dreams mixed with reality and pain. Once again darkness claimed him and his fight for life continued in his world as did his mother’s in hers.