In Case of Rejection

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

He was jolted awake. He knew he was awake, but he couldn't feel anything. He took ragged, sharp breaths inward, but he couldn't see anything. He wasn't sure where he was. He couldn't open his eyes. He imagined that he was paralyzed. He wondered if he was dead. He wondered how he died.

Then, the feeling of life -- the pain in his right arm. The nail. He remembered, and that meant he was still alive, right? He thought of Olive. He could feel the blood pulsing through his arm, the way it felt heavy with pain. He felt his neck and the weight of his head against something hard. Like a table. He felt the oddest sensation of being off the ground. He felt a cold brush of air against his nose.

Something was telling him that it had worked. That he had successfully escaped them, and that all was left to do was go into hiding again. In his stupor his heart swelled with pride, thankful that he had made it out. Thankful that he had time to rest. That he had done the right thing. It felt like he was half-asleep, the way his thoughts felt floaty and far apart. They collided with one another, and ran over each other in ways that didn't make sense. He was struggling with clarity. He was struggling with everything.

He could feel his feet now, and he wiggled his toes to make sure they were there. He felt... drugged, to put it plainly. He felt like he was coming out of the longest sleep of his life. Like he had been dead, and was having trouble being resurrected. For a moment, he wondered if he was dead all over again, and this is what it was like. Eternal darkness.

He started to remember. Running. His legs felt fuzzy. He willed himself to open his eyes. He tried furrowing his eyebrows, but it wasn't working. He started to panic, and from somewhere inside himself, a small noise escaped. He wanted to laugh, startled by the sound of his own voice. The awful thought crossed his mind that someone was there with him. Smiling at his struggle. That made him angry.
And that was when he opened his eyes. Just a sliver, and white light came crashing down onto him. He shut them again, tighter.

He was sure he was dead.

But he couldn't be dead. He tried to put it all together - his last few moments of clarity - in his mind. He remembered Principal Evans, the way she scared Matthew. That wristband she put on around his wrist - the blinking red light in quick, bright pulses. He blinked again, his eyes adjusting ever so slowly.

Matthew started wiggling his fingers, trying to get a feeling for the wristband, but it was gone. It was replaced by something else, thicker. Stronger. He was able to hold his hands up slightly, but they felt incomprehensibly heavy. Matthew tried to tense them, shake them. More pain. He tried lifting higher, and realized that he was restrained. And undoubtedly sedated.

His thoughts drifted apart again. It was a mental marathon to focus. He felt sweat gathering against his palms, and he grew suddenly fearful. Suddenly sick of the feeling of sleepiness. He felt like he could throw up.

"Hey," Matthew said. He expected his voice to be louder, and he was shocked to hear the way it was weak and soft. Like he was talking to someone right next to him. He felt the muscles in his stomach tense.

"Hey!" He barked, the word flying loose through his lips. It didn't sound much like he wanted to, but it was better. His eyes rolled open again, but he couldn't focus them on anything. That same white light, and the same annoyance.
He felt an overwhelming rush of anxiety with the irrational fear that he had been turned Blue. His mind coursed with fear that made him energetic, and before he could think twice about it, Matthew lifted his head up.

He fell straight back onto the metal table, his head thudding hard in a way that made his whole mind spin. He was restrained at the neck too. He figured if he had been turned Blue, he'd feel perfect, right? He probably wouldn't have been able to be put under sedation, either. And either way, he couldn't have been asleep for long, right?
Shuffling suddenly crept into the silence around him. The shuffling of feet. Then clacky heels against what sounded like linoleum. Matthew groaned again, trying to move his shoulders. His elbow felt electric with pain.