Dead But Alive

chapter eighteen: new hope

It seems like hours that I lie helpless on the floor, facedown in a pool of nitrogen and antifreeze. I no longer have a voice-my strength has reached its limit. There's a faint ​moaning forcing its way into my consciousness, but it takes a long time for me to realize I'm causing it.

And then someone comes and speaks softly to me, their voice soothing and gentle. Whoever it is either seems to believe, like Shadow, that I am still alive, or is one of those people that just speaks to inanimate objects.

For some reason I assume the former. Which gives me strength. Gives me hope. This is not Shadow, so that means two people believe there is life in me still.

Two people can help me.

"I know it hurts," this new person murmurs. His voice has a smooth rich undertone, like caramel. It's warm and kind and safe. "I'm sorry. I'll help you." He is gentle, running cool hands over my burning skin. "I promise I'll help you. I can't take you now, but I'll come back. They'll kill you if I take you now. I'll come back." He lifts me, and then I'm slipping back into the tank of blue nitrogen, the cool liquid quenching the fire, even though it was the cause in the first place. I want to ask for answers, ask why the pain controls me.

But I can't.

I just watch him, and he understands.

"The nitrogen is burning your skin," he tells me in a whisper. "It makes your skin so sensitive that open air hurts you. You'll die if you don't go back in."

But it burns me, I want to cry. Why are you putting me back if it burns me?

"They both hurt," Rich whispers, "but one will kill you. Griff wanted me to take you to Snowhill, but I didn't have time. We'll have to wait until you're thawed." He sighs. "Hang in there five more months, buddy. We'll get you out."

Griff. Is Griff Shadow?

Wait. Five months?!

Helpless and in pain, broken and weak, I close my eyes and give in. The liquid closes over my head. I drift to the bottom of the cylinder, and my battered body crumples into a heap.

I can't help myself from praying, one last time, because it gives me some sense of control.

If I die, I wouldn't be mad at you, I whisper in my head, addressing God. If you kill me, I won't be upset.

I wasn't sure if I believed in God, but anyway He didn't answer me.

I don't know what I expected. It's not like anything has been going right lately.

Not like anyone listens to me anymore.

Weeks pass. The pain blurs time into one giant torture session. I hang limply in the liquid, broken and defeated.

Waiting for someone to set me free from my frozen physical body.

Hoping that someone would kill me, and wishing I had the strength to kill myself.

Memories haunt me, pounding on my aching ​head, relentless and guilty. Me signing over myself and my body, free to be frozen and killed. Me yelling at my dad. Symon's face when I turned to walk away. Coach's kind words despite my immaturity. My mom, finally telling me the truth. Dr. Terrance, glowing with excitement over the prospect of what he could do to me, fix me. 

Suddenly Quinn's angry face looms over me. I squeak, squirm and try to get away. I can't move much. I'm helpless.

But...Quinn is here? Surely he wouldn't just leave me. Right? He may break my arm, but he wouldn't leave me at the mercy of a deranged scientist who considers my life dispensable?

Would he?

I try to find my muscles. Locate the nerves in every part of me. Focus on bringing back the feeling of moving.

Nothing.

I can feel my eyes growing, wider and wider in fear as Quinn comes closer, closer, and then vanishes.

Shock surges through me. How did he do that?

I don't know anymore. I don't know what's reality. I don't know if he was ever really there.

I'm trapped in a world of my own, hallucinating.

And I don't think I'm getting out in the near future.