Thine Eyes

Thine Eyes

My eyes adjust to the light. Why am I here? The smell of bleach and floor cleaner, fill my nostrils. Floral pattern sheets align both sides of the single upright posture loving mattress, which I curve my body to. The white blistering light from the spotted plate glass windows onto the contrasting white walls makes it hard for my eyes to continue adjusting. A thin wood slab, containing dried foods and jello, rest overtop of my torso. My eyes become clear.
I look over a thin sheet of bedding, covering my legs. A hospital gown covers the rest. I pull out my arms from the sheets, castings over both arms. Fingers still exposed. I run the fingers over my face. One tube enters in through my left nostril. Bandages wrapped around my head. I assume I have been in an accident. Ivy sticks into my right arm, just below the cast.
I haven't been in a hospital for myself before. But, I know they usually have a call button for nurses. I feel around both sides of the bed. I turn my head to look on the left hand side, but a sharp pain, slides down my neck. Whiplash. Definitely, must have been an accident. I find a corded remote attached to left side of the bed. Buzz. A static sound transmits out of a small speaker centered in the remote.
"What do you need?" A voice resounds from the speaker.
"I..." I respond with silence. All the trouble of finding the remote has left my thoughts behind, without a question to ask.
"Do you need something, sir?" The voice asks.
The static replaces the silence in this miniature speaker. I push the button again.
"Do you need something, sir?" The voice asks, more angrily then before.
"Where am I?" I respond with the first thing that comes to mind, the only question that I actually knew the answer too. The static soon fades out again from the speaker. As I push the button for a third time, I hear a door open. A young woman is presented at the foot of the bed. Her scrubs covering her slender, tanned body. The only new portion of the uniform, that isn't recognizable, is a face mask.
"Am I in quarantine?" I ask, trying to break the ice with this young female. There is no response, from this little deliverer of medicine. She disappears behind a curtain, and brings back a tray containing a four inch syringe.
"You didn't answer me." I say.
"There is a super bug." She responds.
"This bug must not be so super, if you expect that little mask to protect you." I respond, trying to break that little bit of tension this nurse is creating. She quickly grabs the needle from the tray and injects it into my arm, as if it is a dart board.
"Jesus Christ." I exclaim, as I sink deep down into this posture pedic mattress. She slides the needle out, revealing a small blood trail down my arm. The nurse slaps a piece of tape across the hole, and then soon disappears out behind the curtains. My peripheral isn't the greatest. I can only see directly in front. I hear the door close behind her.
"Hello?" I call out, no response.
My head sinks into my shoulders. What was I injected with? At least the sharp pain in my neck has disappeared, and I notice a permanent grin, grow across my face.
"Whoa." I say, as I disappear into myself.
"It's morphine." A voice says, from beyond the curtain.
"Excuse me?" I say, raising my head.
"It's their answer for everything; it's not about need, only quieting the need." The male voice says.
"Yeah, the nurses aren't the friendliest." I reply.
"They never are on this floor." The voice says.
My eyes start to close, beyond my control.
"You come here a lot?" I ask, trying to keep my attention in line.
"I have....."
His words are muffled as I fall asleep.

* * * * * *

Darkness. A yellowed beam of light, strewn in from the outside street light. I hold my arms up towards the light. No casts. A brief of relief. The relief is put onto pause, remembering how long it takes for broken bones to heal. I must have been out awhile. I thought the usual healing time was six weeks. There is no way I have been out that long. I reach out along the left side of the bed, in search of the corded remote. Nothing.
"What the hell. Hey, neighbor?" I call out to the gentleman that was beside me. No answer. I run both my hands down the sides of the bed again. The corded remote is now on the right side of the bed. Twice the size as it was before. One giant button, labeled nurse. I push it. Buzz. Buzz. Static fills the opposite end, as a few moments pass.
"What do you need?" a not so female voice responds.
"I was wondering if I could see my nurse."
No answer. I push the button. No answer, only static. I listen to the static lullaby, until I hear the door open, slowly. Light from the hallway cast a shadow of a giant being.
"Hello?" I ask.
"What do you need, sir?" A reply from the same low voice that was heard from the speaker.
"Are you my nurse?"
"Yes." The voice replies.
The large male steps out from behind the curtain. The light casts a shadow of the male nurse's torso, and keeps his head in darkness. In his arms, is a tray, revealing only a cloth. It is what is underneath that is important. His right hand pulls at the bottom left corner of the cloth, revealing 20 different sized syringes.
"What are you going to do with those?"
"It's for your medication." The voice replies.
The male masochist nurse reaches for the largest of the needles, and injects it into my left forearm. I let out a scream. He leaves the needle stuck in, as he reaches for the next needle in size.
"This one is for blood." He says, moving the needle closer to my right arm.
He sticks the needle deeper then the last, and much harder. Again, he reaches for a third needle, and leaving the blood draining needle dangling from my right arm.
"You could use these one at a time." I state, my tone being very agitated.
"This is much faster, it's all about time management." The voice replies.
My body stays still, baring no control over the situation. All I can see is the needle coming closer and closer, until it is directly, in front of my retina.

* * * * * * *
My body jerks me awake, sending shivers throughout. I breathe heavily, trying to consume as much oxygen as this room can contain.
"How'd you sleep?" The same recognizable voice asks.
"Had a couple nightmares." I reply.
"Yeah, the morphine will do that." The voice says.
The gentleman beside me must think that I can't handle myself. It seems as though, this man must be having a common experience here.
"What brings you here?" The voice asks.
I try to recall anything that has happened before this. I must have slight amnesia, but the fact that I can remember my name, makes the situation temporary. Thomas Morrary. Other little tidbits of events prior too, run through my head. Nothing explaining what brought me here.
"I don't know, judging by the casts on my arms, I assume I was in an accident." I say, lifting both arms, now back in casts.
"It's weird, how quickly you're thrown out of your life." The voice says, as I reach for the corded remote. I would like to speak with someone, about my stay here.
"Most people continue on, routine, day after day, month after month." The voice continues.
A quiet buzz sound flows from the speaker. I wait for a reply.
"Why are you here?" I ask the voice.
"What do you need, sir?" The speaker responds.
"I was in an accident." The voice replies.
"Yes, I need to speak to a specialist, someone who can answer some questions." I respond to the speaker.
"The good thing about accidents is, people open their eyes after. You know, try to make things better." The voice murmurs in the background.
"There are no such things as accidents, they can always be avoided." I reply.
"But, everyone makes them. No one is self-righteous. Not even Jesus." The voice replies.
"Jesus? I hope your accident didn't bring you closer to God."
"Non sense, Jesus is a universal name, I speak his name, and you know exactly who I'm talking about." The voice reasons.
"I will send a specialist, right away." The speaker confirms.
"Thank you." I say into the speaker, as the buzzing stops.
"I just thought. I know people who have turned to God after a tragedy." I say to the voice.
"Not me, I have been on this earth long enough to see the correlations between religion and cults." The voice says, as he starts to laugh.
I start to laugh along with him.
"What's your name?" I ask.
"Daryl Pink and what's yours?"
"Thomas Morrary." I answer.
It's nice to hear a calm voice. I wonder how many people wake up here. Trapped, not knowing anything. Lying in a bed that they may be stricken to for days or weeks.
"Do you have any family?" Daryl asks.
"I don't know, I can't seem to remember. How about you?"
"I have a daughter. She is 26." Daryl answers.
This specialist seems to be taking his time. Or hers. I just want to know what is going on.
"She is supposed to be coming today. Or at least, that is what she said two days ago." Daryl says.
"You're not married?" I ask, one of those questions that should be thought before asking. Do I really want to know the answer? I can hear a long sigh, coming from my partner of misery.
"I was. She was hit by a drunk driver." Daryl says, as the specialist walks in through the door, and comes to a stop in front of my bed.
"Thomas. How are you doing?" The specialist asks.
"Alright, I just want to know why I'm here."
"You have no recollection?" He says.
"No." I reply.
I hear the door open again, and a young female appears at the front of my bed, tears running down both sides of her face. She's pretty. Straight brown hair, brown eyes that would make the Rolling Stones write a song about. I can see the beauty through the tears. As she walks by, she shakes her head at the sight of me. She wears only black. She continues walking, directly to my neighbor. It must be his daughter.
"The accident...." The Specialists words trail off, as I watch the beauty disappear out of my sight.
"We should be..." More words exit from the specialist mouth.
I was not expecting that to come walking through the door.
"Any other questions?" The specialist asks, snapping me back to reality.
"Aw... no." I answer, my mind drawing a blank.
The specialist quickly walks out.
"I mean, shit." I say, too late, the specialist has left.
I did have more questions. Daryl's daughter through me off track, I know it shouldn't be an excuse.
"I'm sorry, I wish there was more I could do." The Daughter says.
"You don't have to do anything, just being here is enough." Daryl replies.
I reach out for the corded remote, and push the nurse button. Buzz.
"The Doctors say there isn't much they can do." I over hear the daughter telling Daryl.
"I already know." Daryl replies.
"They did everything they could."
"I understand, I love you." Daryl says.
This isn't something I should be listening to, but these rooms don't offer too much in privacy.
"Can I help you?" A voice responds, from beyond the speaker.
"I love you." The Daughter says.
"I would like to speak with my specialist again." I say.
"Sir, he was just there." The voice responds.
"I know that, I didn't get a chance to ask him a couple questions."
The daughter walks by, tears still rolling, no eye contact made. As quickly as she disappears, a nurse appears, syringe in hand. No words are exchange between me and this dealer of drugs, while she injects it into my arm. The most gentle so far, or I just have desensitized myself to the needles.
"Are you sending the specialist back?"
"He left for the day." She responds, while on her way to the door.
"What? Isn't it morning?" I ask, but of course, I ask too late.
"No, actually it is 3p.m." Daryl says.
"Oh, well then. Your daughter didn't stay too long." I say, again realizing I should filter my observations. There is only silence from Daryl's side.
"No, she's very busy." Daryl says, breaking the silence.
I could hear breaking in his tone, the kind of breaking when someone is trying to hold back tears. My head starts to sink back into my shoulders.
"Why did they shoot me again? I didn't have any pain."
"That way you will be silent, and will stop hitting the button." Daryl replies.
Dream world, here I come.

* * * * * * *
No darkness. Bright lights instead, I lay underneath many. Two nurses, one male, one female, and the same specialist, look over me, only further down.
"What's going on?" I stammer. No answer.
They can't seem to hear me. Or they are just ignoring me. I raise my head to view my surroundings. White walls all around.
"Hand me the jar." I hear the specialist ask the female nurse.
"It's too bad, that we had to lose both of them." The male nurse says.
What did he say? Lose both what? It's only a dream. It's only a dream. If I keep telling myself that, then it will stay that way. It's only a dream.
"How are the others?" The female nurse asks, handing the jar to the specialist.
"The women didn't make it, and the male is in critical condition, comatose." He replies.
Other ones? Who is he talking about? I can feel my lungs getting heavier. My body is paralyzed. I can't move. I try to scream, but no sounds come out. HELP ME! Nothing exits my mouth. I blink, and I'm back in darkness. I look around the empty room. Nothing. Nobody.
My body doesn't feel as paralyzed. I'm able to move it more then before. I move my head around and look throughout the room. Nothing. I notice out of my peripheral, the sheet moving. I look down, and see the sheet slightly moving up and down, as if something underneath is moving it. I quickly throw off the sheets. Maggots cling to two stubs of what used to be legs. I scream, loud enough for the heavens above to hear. I try shaking my lower half, but nothing moves. Thousands of maggots, all around, are falling off all over the bed. I scream for someone to help.
* * * * * * *
I awake, sweaty, and breathing heavy. I start to vomit over the right side of the bed. I feel around with my free hand, for the corded remote, while my right hand tries to prop my head up to keep the vomit off the bed. I buzz for the nurse.
"Can I help you?' The voice says.
I can't give an answer, through my convulsions. The buzzing stops. I calm down for the moment, and align myself back on the bed. I grab for the sheet, and quickly throw it off my legs. It reveals two stubs, instead of legs, bandages covering both. The door opens, as I hear someone walk in.
"Mr. Morrary, what can I do for you?" A nurse says, walking around the side of the curtain.
"What the hell is going on?" I lose it, I can't control myself. No one here is giving me any answers.
"You lost both your legs in the accident."
"What accident? What happened?" I ask.
"You hit an older couple. Your vehicle rolled and you were tossed out." She goes on.
"Are they okay?" I ask, trying to calm myself down.
"I'm sorry, the women died on impact, and the male was in critical condition, and never woke up from his coma." She says.
"Oh my God."
The sick feeling soon comes back, nauseating feeling of guilt. Now would be a good time to turn to God, maybe ask for some forgiveness.
"Did you know any of this Daryl?" I ask.
I realize what he must think of me, knowing all of this, and the way I was acting. It was selfish. I hurt others, as I laid here expecting it to be about me.
"Who are you talking too?" The nurse asks.
"Daryl Pink, my neighbor."
"Mr. Morrary, Daryl Pink and Monica Pink, was the couple you hit. Daryl was your neighbor, but he was completely comatose, the entire time he was here."
I have no response. Everything that was just told to me, floats through my head. Memories start to come back, about the accident, the car lying on top of me, I was screaming for paramedics to help. I never asked about them.
"I guess this is the way it always ends up, the innocent ones always lose their lives. And people like you, lie hear taking up space." The nurse says.
Pretty harsh words, it was an accident.
"It was an accident, I never meant to hurt anyone."
"At least know, you can't drink and drive anymore."
It hits me in the face, as hard as a bat. The party, the drinking, I was offering others a ride home. Her words strike me as any amnesia patient. Everything comes back. I thought I could do it. I thought I was okay to drive. Tears start to well up in my eyes.
"I'm sorry." I say, as the tears start to roll.
"I forgive you, just learn from it." Daryl's voice. I can hear it.
The nurse exits, as more tears start to roll down my face.
"I'm sorry." I say, trying to hope for as much forgiveness, I never meant to hurt anyone.
The slab of wood over my torso, contains a letter. There are a few visible words sprawled across the front.

DEAR DRUNK DRIVER
A.K.A. Asshole
This is a letter about my family,
In hopes to make thine eyes see.

A letter from their daughter, I reach for it. I wipe tears from my eyes. I spent the last day of her father's life with him. She won't ever know that. I open it.

THE END