You are standing at the water’s edge, watching the moon arc its silvery face across the treetops on the far spur of land jutting into the lake. The reflected ripples petal their way to your feet and you muse at their silver slidings.
The violence of the violet crack from your head through your eyes blends into blackness. Your next sense is of the soft sheet against your chin. You have no sight, there is a muffled murmuring around you. Strangely you can’t make it out because of the bandages covering your ears and eyes.
You feel the sheets tucked tightly around you. They are so restrictive that no movement is possible. You wonder why you can’t see anything and can barely hear. The muffled voices sound stifled, as if the speakers don’t want you to hear.
You strain to lift your arms, but the bedclothes prevent you from doing anything, imprisoned, restrained and scared.
“So how is she today, Doctor?”
“Well, her injuries are improving every day, so much so that we are planning to bring her out of the coma.”
“Will she be normal when she comes round?”
“Depends on your definition of normal, we can’t guarantee anything. Just gentle encouragement and lots of physio.” The Doctor left the room and closed the door behind him. The Nurse continued to do her observations, temperature, blood pressure, pulse.
You feel the Nurse touching you and try to speak, how can you get their attention. If you move a finger, maybe she will notice. You put all your energies into raising one finger and feel confident that it moved. You try to open your eyes, but they appear almost glued shut. Perhaps if you could blink, they would realise you were awake.
You feel another person close by, they hold your hand and speak loudly in your ear, but it still sounds muted. But you feel comforted that someone is there for you.
Maybe if you try to remember why you are in this bed and how long you have been there. Using your brain is almost painful and doesn’t help, as you can’t think why you are here. Panic starts to set in, supposing you are going to be like this forever……
The next thing you are aware of is someone touching your head. You desperately try to get their attention by moving muscles in your face, but they continue to remove the bandages unaware of your plight.
The person who is removing your bandages speaks and instead of being muffled and unclear you can hear their voice perfectly.
“Do you think she can hear us Doctor?”
“She doesn’t appear to be able to, as she is showing no signs of recognition or coming out of her coma.” The Doctor sighed as he said this.
You are screaming at them now, frantically trying to get their attention. You use every muscle in your body trying to move, but nothing works. The energy you use just exhausts you and you fall back into a black bottomless pit of despair.
After what seems like minutes, but it could have been hours or even days, you are aware that they have returned, again fiddling with the bandages, this time the ones over your eyes. Brilliant sunshine and white light alarm you and you slowly adapt to the brightness and focus on the room around you. White walls, white sheets, Doctor and Nurse both dressed in white, you try to move your head, or even your eyes to see either side of you, but again the paralysis sets in and you remain fixed, staring blankly ahead.
“Its such a shame that her Mother died last year, I’m sure that her visits were helping.”
Last year, LAST YEAR! Just how long have I been here. Was that the person who was holding my hand and talking loudly to me?
You question your ability to remember anything, why are you here in this white room? Why can’t you move a single muscle, why can’t you speak. You are trapped, locked in like a captive wild animal, unable to escape.
You hear movement in the room and glance over to the source of the noise. You glanced over you didn’t just stare ahead. Feeling elated you do it again, and see the Doctor and Nurse in a huddle in the corner of the room. Please let them see that I moved my eyes.
You listen suspiciously trying to hear what they are whispering about. Snippets of their conversation “It’s been five years now, so I think we need to do another brain activity test.”
“She may never regain consciousness.” “Its no way for a person to live”
They are shining lights into your eyes; can’t they see that I can move my eyes now?
They pinch your nose, and press firmly on your forehead, what is happening?
“No signs of life at all. Do you agree, Doctor?”
“Yes, Doctor, definitely no signs at all.”
You scream as loud as you can “HELP ME, I’M STUCK!”
838 words – Sandy Bryson
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