52. Charlie
Charlie
There are voices that sound like they're underwater. Maybe it’s me underwater as everything sloshes in my ears.
But there's a blinding white light. It flickers against my eyelids. It hurts, and I groan, trying to turn my head. My skull pulsates as if it’s been split wide open.
My heartbeat pounds inside my brain matter, every nerve in there was in blistering agony.
“Can you hear me? What’s your name?”
My throat is dry, my tongue heavy. Someone’s hand presses gently against my shoulder.
“Do you know what month it is?”
I blink. The light hits me again, but it’s sharper this time. My eyes sting, and everything’s blurry – shapes, shadows, people in blue. My hand trembles as I lift it up, trying to stop whatever it is they're pointing in my eyes.
“How many fingers am I holding up?”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. My heart starts to race. I know I should know it, but the word isn’t there. It’s two. I see the peace sign covered in darkness. Someone’s mouth moving beneath the mask as they try getting me to do something.
“Okay,” another voice says softly, calm but urgent. “Do you know your birthday?”
My chest tightens. There’s a steady beeping somewhere near my ear, it starts to pick up speed. It’s pounding in my eardrums as my eyes dart all over the place. Am I on an alien spaceship? I can barely move, it’s like I’m in some sort of sleep paralysis state. Oh god... am I dead?
“Do you know where you are?”
The lights above me blur together. I see the white ceiling, wires, the shimmer of stainless steel. The machines beep around me. What is wrong with me? My brain can’t keep up. “No,” I croak, voice cracking.
“It’s okay,” someone says, but their hand touches mine and I flinch like I’ve been burned. Panic spikes through me. I can’t breathe, my lungs are collapsing and crumbling apart in my chest.
“Don’t,” my voice breaks as I try to pull away. “Don’t touch me!”
Everything starts happening too fast. Hands on my arms, voices layering over each other, the sound of something beeping faster. I can’t breathe. There’s plastic against my face. I claw at it, but someone grabs my wrist.
“Hey, hey, stop, you’re okay! You've gotta keep the mask on.”
I’m not okay. I have no idea where I am.
I’m being interrogated. Name? My name? Month.
What? Numbers. Who the hell are you? Why am I even here, and what is this blistering pain in my head that is banging?
I feel like my ears are bleeding. The mask over my mouth feels too tight.
It’s choking me. My head throbs with every heartbeat, and the room tilts sideways.
I kick my feet, hitting something. Someone curses softly.
“Restraints!”
“No, no,” I try to scream, but it comes out hoarse.
I yank at the wire taped on my arm. Pain shoots through it, but I don’t care.
I just need it off me. I need everything off me.
I must be in a looney bin. That’s where I am.
Or maybe this is hell. Oh fuck, Jesus left me.
Or I’m some crazy woman with a million different personalities.
That has to be it. That’s why I don’t remember anything.
Hands press me down, firm but not rough. The mattress shifts beneath me. There’s a voice right by my ear now, low and steady. “You’re safe, I promise. You’re in the hospital because you were hurt.”
Hospital. Hurt. What do you mean? The word echoes somewhere in the back of my head. My vision tunnels. The lights above melt into streaks of gold and white. The sounds fade. The voices, the machines, the heartbeat in my ears, all of it drifting further away, and it’s dark all over again.
He smirks. I feel like I should know him.
He’s handsome, I give him that. The dirty blond hair, and his golden eyes, but at the same time there's something wrong. He was important to me once. At least I think he was. It’s like someone is pouring salt all over an open wound.
I can’t breathe, my lungs tighten and my pulse crashes against my ribs.
There are a lot of people swarming around me, blurring as they pass by. Lots and lots of people, running around in dark clothing, there's something loud banging in my ears. Drums, guitars, someone singing in the background.
I have no idea where I am. But the guy, that blond man, is holding a tiny packet between his fingers.
My stomach twisted into knots as I watched him so subtly pour it into a girl's red cup. I suddenly become dizzy, the room is tilting sideways. She isn’t paying attention at all to her drink that she holds up in the air as she's yelling straight at me. I’m quiet as I watch the white powder dissolve instantly, like it never existed at all.
And he just places a finger over his lips telling me to shush, before he puts a gun symbol to his head pretending to pull the trigger.
“I’ll be downstairs.” He taps me on the shoulders. It was just the heartbeat in my throat, the girl in front of me crying. I’m screaming at myself to say something, not to drink what's in the cup, but I'm just standing still like a deer in headlights. Why am I not saying anything?
“I think I might be in love with your brother, and I’m terrified to even talk to you. All you do is judge me and tell me how ugly and stupid I look. That’s not what a friend does,” the girl spits out. She’s swaying like the room’s spinning. She clutches the red cup and starts chugging it.
I think I might be sick, my palms are sweaty.
What makes the feeling even worse is that I know this girl.
It’s buried somewhere deep inside me that she means more to me than anything.
It’s as if she's family, my sister. But at the same time there's this throbbing ache inside my chest like she’s done something terrible to me.
“And I’m the terrible friend?” A laugh escapes before I can stop it.
I’m talking. Why am I talking? Why am I saying this?
“I’ve always told you the truth, even when you didn’t wanna hear it.
Who do you think combed your hair for years?
Who made you wear something decent, so you didn’t look like you rolled out of a dumpster?
I’m not your mother, but I’ve sure as hell been one to you since we were kids.
” I take a breath and shake my head. “And as for my brother, I doubt you even love him. You walked out on him and said you wanted nothing to do with him. I’m so sick of girls messing with him. ”
"I’m not going to apologize for landing on him!” She snaps.
“Then don’t.” My voice goes cold. “But you lied and hid it from me.” She laughs bitterly at my remark, staring into her cup. “I trusted you,” I say softly, my chest tight. “And you went off and hurt me... and you hurt my brother.”
The silence between us burns hotter than the alcohol in her cup. She’s staring at the tile floor now. “I thought I was doing him a favor.”
The words hang there, and it’s like she stabbed me in the chest. God, what is wrong with me?
Why am I not grabbing the cup, or hitting it out of her hands.
Why? What is wrong with me? Hello! Do something.
I'm standing so utterly still and fearful that if I do then something awful is going to happen. It has to be him. I’m scared of him.
He's still here somewhere, watching, waiting, smiling like the devil. I’m too scared to speak because all it takes is for me to say one wrong word, and he’s going to pull the trigger.
A trigger. He’s going to... he’s going to...
oh my god he’s going to hurt her. And I’m walking away from her and she’s yelling at me.
No! Go back, and talk to her, go back and tell her something is in that drink. There’s something wrong!
It’s like I’m being ripped out of my own head, dragged backwards through a tunnel of light. My chest seizes, my lungs forgetting how to work. My eyes snap open as I gasp for air and I'm clutching the white gown at my chest. “He... he... he has a gun!” I sob.
I dunno what’s real. If it was just a dream. “He’s gonna kill me!” I scream out and my face is hot. It’s hotter than hell. It’s raw, like my skin is peeling off, and it’s wet. I don’t know who she is, but my entire being is hurting from whatever that conversation was between us. “Help!”
No one responds, people racing around me in those blue outfits, and those green masks over their faces. Machines are beeping and there's some metal tray next to me, with some sort of bloody cloth.
There are footsteps pounding in the hallway again, coming into the room. “He... he's going to hurt...” I choke on my own slobber as I grasp for the lady’s blue shirt. Hands grasp my arms. Cold fingers, with purple gloves. Voices blend together.
“Who? Who is trying to hurt you?”
“He... he...”
“We need you to calm down. Tell us a name? Who is he?”
“It’s my... it’s all my...” I can’t even finish the statement and someone places a hand on my shoulder.
“Don’t touch me!” I kick against the bed, thrashing like the air is choking me.
Something metal crashes to the floor. Instruments scatter across the tile and the sound rips through my pounding skull.
I grasp my head, and the pain gets even worse.
When I pull my hand away, there's blood.
Not a lot, but enough to stain my fingers. My whole body goes numb and cold.
“No! No! Please! Help me!”
“Get a sedative!” one of them shouts.
“No please!” My throat is raw as I scream it out. “I don't wanna go back to sleep! He’s gonna find me! He’s gonna!”
There’s a hot pain going up my arm as the nurse put something in the IV. Everything blurs again, swirling all around, the colors all dissolving back into nothing.