The Volition

Twelve

"She's coming to." The voice sounded so far away and I tried so hard to reach out for it.

Help me! I screamed inside my head. I wanted to hold onto the words but I felt like I had to cross oceans to get to them. I'm here! I wanted to cry but even that seemed impossible.

There was a bright light that blinded my eyes and caused me to shut them tightly, once again running deep into the depths of the darkness.

"There she is." The voice was louder this time and I realized it was an old man. His voice filled with gentle kindness.

My body felt like I had thrown it into several mosh pits everyday consecutively for roughly 46 days. I felt so banged up and beaten. My head felt huge and small all at the same time. I was miserable. I grunted in response to the old man taking in my surroundings. I was lying on a hospital bed. My clothes were in some puke yellow plastic bag with my shoes peaking out. I looked around with my eyes trying to move as little as possible. Moving turned out to be evil.

"How are we feeling today? A little sore I'm sure but besides that, how are we?"

I tried to focus on him. He had short white hair that looked a bit disheveled. Not as if he didn't take care of himself but as if he hadn't been home for a while. He wore a blue button down and dark blue slacks. He must have taken off his tie or he just likes to leave the top button undone but he didn't seem like the type so I assumed it's been a rough day for him. I can sympathize with that.

"Take your time, small words at first." I had forgotten he asked me a question. I struggled to remember just the question he had asked.

"Hurt." I grunted out.

"You're in pain." He edited for me.

"Yes." I tried to nods but it didn't really work.

"On a scale of one to ten?"

I thought about how badly I really hurt. Most of my pain I felt was mental. They had pumped me full of drugs, well either that or my body was running on adrenaline. Probably both. I didn't really physically hurt, but my heart still ached.

"Six." I mumbled.

"Good." He nodded his head, "Very good."

I tried to sit up, very slowly of course, and the old man helped me. It took me a while but I finally realized he must be my doctor. I don't know why I just thought a nice old man had stopped in my room to check in on me.

"Here we are." He said placing a giant pillow behind my neck. I rubbed my tongue behind my teeth, a habit I grew up doing when I had to really think hard.

"Who are you?" I croaked.

"My name is Doctor Schwartzky."

"How long have I been here?"

"23 hours. We were concerned you would fall into a coma and not come out of it so I've been keeping an eye out for you. There is also a nurse who checks in every half hour to see if you have stirred or if you woke up."

I semi nodded, "What happened?"

"Well we didn't want to do any tests yet until we saw how you acted in the first 24, since you woke up we'll start the testing procedures now. Can you tell me what you think happened?"

"I didn't feel well." I started, "My head hurt."

"How long has your head been hurting?" Dr. Schwartzky asked.

"All weekend."

"And how bad has the pain been for you?"

"Bad."