AWARE

Talking to him

Zoona

Once I felt my body recovering from its slumber, I sensed my temperature increase, giving me a touch of fever as my body waged the fiery battle in my blood against something that my anatomy deemed artificial and incompatible. 

As my fever blazed and climbed I came to the conclusion that this was no bacteria or virus but something with greater intention and with an even stronger outcome; my body was fighting the drug which had been keeping me asleep - or the remains of it. 

I was winning and could feel my body burning it out, finally releasing me from this murky insensibility and ridding it of the chemicals; I was finally being delivered from the dark depths to the surface of untainted consciousness. 

When the fever broke, I allowed myself to analyze my situation, to start asking the worrying questions. 

What happened to me? 

When did this happen to me?

Why was I drugged? 

Where am I?

The most disturbing question that was the most prominent: Why am I here?  

With that thought, I looked around, my eyes proving to be the best verification and ally for my situation. 

I was laying down in a simple bed with sheets covering my body and I could see my clothes were white scrubs, recently changed, but that wasn’t important; the several tubes going into me body were, stout and plastic, tying my limbs down with a strange precision of uncomfortableness, as florescent thick, drugs I assumed, went into my arms and stomach. 

I summoned and focused my strength into one of my arms and swung it across my other bicep, latching onto one of the tubes and giving it a sturdy yank. The needle slid out with little effort and immediately after that a muffled beeping came from the wall, alerting my abductors.  

Well, they probably already knew I wasn’t unconscious. 

Using what time I had before action was taken on me, I was aware that I had to stop any entrance for drugs to get back into my blood stream - I couldn’t have myself be sedated again; I had no idea where I was, or if I was in danger. 

Without the slightest hesitation, I ripped the plastic cords going into my nose. I bit down hard on my tongue, a metallic taste leaking into my mouth as I felt an uncomfortable slither of tubes coming up from my throat; I hopelessly gave a dry retch but willed myself to continue the process, salty tears coming to my eyes. I couldn’t hinder them and felt their warm passage over my cheeks.

That must have been the worst of it, I assured myself weakly, dropping the tubes to my side. 

With no time to loose, I looked around at my setting, disoriented momentarily whilst repressing unproductive tears from post-gaging. The room was roughly square, made out of heavy glass, impervious to brute force and immune to escape - human proof. One of the four walls was slightly tinted, which gave me the idea it was like that to serve a purpose; I bet someone was watching me on the other side of that wall right now.