Skilled hands.
Cassandra
A bright light hits my eyelids. I feel lost. Where am I? I try to open my eyes, but the light hurts a lot. A shooting pain makes me close them again.
"Easy there, dear. Take your time, don't rush it. Your eyes need to get used to light again. This is like being reborn," says a warm and soothing maternal voice. I comply and begin to open my eyes slowly, letting the sunlight be a part of my life once again.
"This is great; I can't wait to get a tan,"says Life.
Once my eyes are wide open, I feel my brain getting overwhelmed by emotion. I want to run towards the window and take a good look at it, but I still can't— these wires are my new shackles.
Goddammit!
"Honey, give it a minute, you're not ready yet. Give it time. We still need to run some more tests." What? Tests? Is she for real? Is she going to make decisions for me? You gotta be fucking kidding me right now!
"A minute? Nurse, that means nothing to me anymore. There's no time to waste here. If I don't see it now, I might not get another chance later…"
This nurse must be in her forties, maybe fifties. She's also understanding and has a comforting smile. I don't want to sound ungrateful and gloomy, but I just can't shake off this feeling that a grim period is about to start in my life. My mind is different now, my thoughts are different. I don't live in the present anymore, I'm always thinking ahead. The others might not understand, and it's really hard to explain.
It's been three years since I last had the power to decide, to call my own shots. Three long fucking years I've felt no control over my mind and body. The only thing that mattered was obedience. So yeah, I don't think it's super fucking weird that I want to make a fucking judgment call right now. So you better get out of the way, bitch.
Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!
This damned machine again.
"Come, now. I told you to drop it. If you keep at it, you will set your recovery back and will take longer to see the sun on your own terms…" Her voice went from kind and smooth to sharp and serious.
I never appreciated the sun before I was kidnapped. I never thought I'd miss it the most. Don't get me wrong, food, clothing, internet, TV, etc. were sorely missed, but the sun was on a whole different level of 'missingness'.
"…but if you're trying this hard to do it, I think I better help you." The nurse sighs then come near me. Giving up to my will, she helps me stand on the cold floor. I take a step, kick something and make a noise. I see a couple of bags lying on the ground. I walk around them without even bothering to think what's inside —my goal awaits beyond the window. I'm being escorted to a window. She's holding my arm while carrying some equipment along. My legs are shaking, I'm still very weak, so I appreciate the gesture. She could've just ignored me or pointed out one of the dozens of things about my poor health right now to refuse to help me get up. Step by step, we make our way to the window while we continue chatting.
"The bags over there by the bed were brought by the officer who left a while ago. He said you'll what's in them. If you want it. I can help you with that, too…" I try to listen, but honestly, I can't focus on anything else right now but the two additional steps I must take to meet the sun again. I finally reach the window and rest my body against the frame. The sun shines bright; this warm feeling is the first familiar thing I experience since they pulled me out of the nightmare. I try to look straight at it, just like I did in my dream, but I can't. I hiss and massage my eyes to ease the pain, but Is this really pain? It is, but it's nothing compared to what I'm used to, what he made me get used to.
'He' comes to my mind. I get a flashback of what happened in the last 48 hours —screams, loud noises, his face, blood, death, him again, the conversation we had and the promise that came after—, I look back and quickly scan the room looking for traces of him. He's gone, just like he promised. Oddly enough, I feel empty inside, even more than before.
Recalling that the nurse is still here, I ask, "What did you say about those bags?"
"Oh! The officer who was here yesterday brought them. He was very kind; I think there are some clothes inside." She seems amazed by him. She's happy for me because someone bought me clothes. She ignores what he did before; she wouldn't think or feel this way if she knew.
When she mentions him, it's impossible not to get lost remembering the conversation they had in front of me, how her voice trembled through their entire exchange, especially when she said 'you brought joy back to our lives.' To be honest, he did that for me as well, but I can't just ignore the rest.
I never knew his name. Why am I thinking this right now?
"Let's go back to bed, you need to rest. I brought you breakfast; once you're done eating, I need a blood sample from you."
"More needles? No, please. Isn't there any other way?" The cold horror that goes through my body, from my hair to the tip of my toes, is unbearable. Needles bring back a lot of dark memories.
"Please, not again."
"We're just getting started. One hand down, one to go. After that, you get to rest," he whispers.
He takes my right hand and proceeds to slowly stab my index finger with a needle. My screams fill the room to the very last corner. My vocal cords are vibrating so much, my throat burns; my eyes are so swollen, I can barely see. My wrists are bound to this chair with rough rope. I'm squirming and hurting them in the process. It hurts so much, my brain is starting to shut down. I see black spots getting bigger and bigger, obscuring my vision even more. God, finally I feel my body shutting down completely. I can still hear my own screams, but they seem lost in the distance. I'm already miles away.
A moment later, something wakes me up.
Coldwater.
He always does that. Always. Somehow, I keep forgetting.
