Memory In Pieces
By Anonymous, Freeport, ME
Author's note: Inspired by an anime and a contest about waking from a coma. Combine them together and this is what you get.
The ComaThe first thing he heard was the beeping of the machine. He opened his eyes and saw a blindingly white light. He couldn't feel. His throat felt restricted, keeping him from speaking. His limbs were heavy; he couldn't move himself.
Where was he? And what was he doing here? Who was he?
Footsteps annouced the arrival of a couple of people. They were talking in low voices, but he heard every word they said.
"-doesn't wake up? The police will never figure
"The evidence points against him," a male voice responded. "He was there at the shooting and the other man was dead. What makes you think that it isn't him?"
"Well, the evidence also suggests that there were others before the ambulance and police arrived, right?" the female said.
"Look, there was no ID, nothing to show who he is," the male said, his tone a little frustrated. "And why would someone like Nightshade carry around an ID? That would be stupid, wouldn't it? One mess up and he'd be caught. He was found with no ID, nothing to even suggest who he might be, he was discovered at the scene of the shooting unconcious, don't you think it's a bit unlucky for him to be found? Also, in the past five months that he's been here, there's been nothing from Nightshade. Who's to say that it isn't him?"
The two people arrived near him.
"Oh!" the female said. "You're awake, finally." There was relief in her voice. "We were starting to worry." She bent over and he saw her face for the first time. She wasn't all that pretty; she had a bone-thin face and her smile looked a little forced.
"Oh, good," the male said.
Unable to move his head to see who the other person was and turn his eyes away from the nurse, he closed them.
"Are you able to talk?" the male asked.
He didn't say anything. He felt he couldn't move, and he felt like there was something stuffed in his throat.
"Cat in your throat?" the male chuckled. "Well, just be glad for the morphine, else you'd be extreme pain."
Pain . . . . What was pain like? He had forgotten. Everything was foggy. His mind was foggy. Wasn't pain sharp? It should then sharpen the fogginess, right? It would make him move, right? He concentrated on his right arm as hard his mind would let him. Slowly, slowly it moved. It took so much effort to do that simple thing, but he kept forcing it. Something told him in his mind that moving meant survival. One had to keep moving to survive. If he didn't act now, he was dead. He forced his had onto his chest and stopped, mentally panting from the effort.
There was a gasp from the nurse.
"Now, don't push yourself," the doctor said. He could hear a trace of panic in his voice.
If it made him panic, he was close to his goal. His sharp ears caught the sound of footsteps.
"They're coming," the nurse whispered to the doctor.
His right hand was now on his left arm. He began pressing his skin, trying to find the slight disturbance caused by the needle. There.
"So, our patient has woken up, has he?" a new voice said.
"Yes, but he has yet to speak," the doctor said.
His fingers found the point of the needle that was exposed to the air. He wrapped them around the wire and pulled with the remaining will he had.
The nurse gave a terrified gasp.
"No!" the doctor cried.
Pain, precious pain swept through him. Nothing felt heavy anymore. Every wound, every sore, every aching part came to him in a rush and he sat bolt upright, panting hard, reveling in the pain that freed him from the fogginess. His whole body cried for him to find relief, but his mind rebelled. His throat was loosened and he could find that he could speak again.
And two words came to his mind: Toren Felthar. That was his name.
As he breathed heavily, he realized how silent the room had gotten. He turned his head and saw for the first time his four visitors.
"So, this is he?" said one of the policemen. He took a chair and sat down. "I'm Officer Carlton. I would appreciate it if you would comply with me."
Toren just stared at him, his eyes blank. The second policeman took a seat next to Officer Carlton and dismissed the doctor and the nurse, but Toren paid him no attention.
"First and formost, I would like to know your name," Carlton said.
Toren hesitated. This man wanted his name? He instinctively jerked his head back. Who was this man to ask him who he was? He had no right! Something, instinct? something that was taught to him? told him not to say. But another part of his brain told him that no harm could come to him if he talked.
"Toren Felthar," he replied finally.
Carlton nodded, as if he was expecting that. "Do you remember why you're here?"
Toren stared at him blankly. Why was he here? His pain did not tell him that. It had only told what his name was.
The second policemen coughed and Toren turned his blank eyes on him. The policeman shifted uncomfortablely. Why? Toren's eyes traveled to the policemen's belt. There was a gun.
His mind reeled back in time. He could hear guns being fired. Someone was yelling at him. He felt several sharp pains in his chest. His hand traveled up to his chest, and there he could feel several dents in the exact places where he had felt the pain.
This motion did not escape Officer Carlton's notice. He gave a grim smile and nodded.
"Exactly, you were in a shooting," he said. "Do you remember why?"
When Carlton had started talking, Toren's eyes snapped back to him. He said nothing. Carlton tilted his head.
"Do you need encouragement?" he questioned.
Toren didn't answer, except he gave Carlton the same blank stare.
"We need your compliance," Carlton said. "It would help us a lot if you shared what you know." Still, Toren said nothing. Carlton sighed. "All right, then. Do you know who you are?"
It came out of his mouth before he could stop and think about it. "Nobody."
Carlton raised his eyebrows. "Nobody?" But Toren had fallen silent again. Carlton nodded. "I see, then."
In a very quiet voice, Toren asked, "Are we done here?"
Carlton gave him a look. "For now, Felthar. But I expect you to give whatever you can remember." With a pointed look at Toren, he motioned his partner to get up and follow him. "Until later, then," he said as he left.
Toren had no intention of staying where he was though. Even as Carlton left, his brain started thinking of a plan to escape. Something told him that he shouldn't be here, that it was too dangerous. He waited a few minutes after Carlton had left. He heard no one approaching.
He got up. It was time to leave.