Ugh… where am I?
What… happened?
A rhythmic beeping echoed through the room—slow, steady, too close to his ear.
The EKG monitor pulsed very loud, each beep tugging him further into consciousness.
A sharp, chemical scent entered his nose, harsh enough to force both of his eyes open.
White ceiling. Blurred lights. Cold air brushing against his skin.
Shane blinked several times, his lashes were so heavy as if they had been glued together.
When the world finally came into focus, he realized he was lying in a hospital bed. Sterile looking walls. Metallic rails. Tubes and wires attached to him like he was some kind of machine.
His limbs felt heavy—weighted, almost like they were not his own.
His tongue felt thick in his mouth, and even breathing seemed like an effort he had to take.
He felt… like he had been asleep for an impossibly long time.
A deep, empty kind of sleep—one without any dreams or sense of time.
Or… maybe he had dreamed about something. He couldn't remember. Everything was blank.
The bed was so soft, so warm, that part of him wanted to close his eyes and sink back into it.
But curiosity pushed harder than the exhaustion he was experiencing.
Where am I?
Why am I here?
What happened to me?
He tried to piece the memories together, but nothing surfaced—just darkness.
He inhaled, braced himself, and tried to sit up.
"Ouch—!"
A sudden, sharp direct pain stabbed through his skull, making him wince.
His vision blurred again, and he fell back against the pillow.
The door to his room swung open abruptly.
A nurse stepped inside, holding a clipboard. She was mid-step into the room when she froze, her eyes widening.
"Oh my—! You're awake!" she gasped, one hand immediately covering her mouth. "It's a miracle. Stay right there—I need to get the doctor!"
Without waiting for a response from him, she spun around and rushed out, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.
Shane blinked, confused. Miracle? What was she talking about?
Before he could think too deeply, hurried footsteps approached again.
The door burst open and this time a doctor entered, slightly out of breath but wearing a wide, hopeful smile. She approached him with a professional look to her.
"Alright, Shane," she said, her tone gentle but focused. "I'm going to check a few things, okay? Try to relax."
Relax? That might be a little bit difficult considering your looks…Shane thought to himself.
She stood at the foot of his bed, towering over him with legs that looked like they were endless, her doctor's coat stretched across a body built for erotic fantasies. Those breasts—fuck, they were truly massive, straining hard against her white uniform like they were desperate to burst free. The buttons looked one deep breath away from popping and falling off, revealing the lacy bra he imagined, Her name tag read 'Dr. Elena Voss,'
Although he had no sense of what had happened, one thing was for sure he was a perverted dude.
She clicked a penlight on and shined it in his eyes, moving it from side to side.
"Pupils reactive… good."
She lifted his arms, testing his range of motion.
"Movement appears adequate. No stiffness…"
Shane watched her work, still dazed, still lost.
"Are you experiencing any pain right now?" she asked.
He shook his head slowly. "No… not really. But I felt a sharp pain in my head when I tried to get up earlier."
"That's completely normal," the doctor replied reassuring him. "Your brain is still adjusting and reestablishing proper function. After all, you've just woken up from a coma."
"…Coma?" Shane echoed, confused. "What do you mean?"
The doctor's expression softened. She set her clipboard down and folded her hands.
"You've been unconscious for three months now, Shane."
The words felt unreal. Three months?
An entire semester?
Gone?
And then instantly —just like a dam breaking—memories flooded in.
He had been walking home after school. It was late.
The street was dimly lit. A truck came straight out of nowhere, tires screeching. A girl—maybe eighteen? Nineteen?—was frozen in the middle of the road, paralyzed by fear.
He had acted before thinking. He jumped, pushing her out of the way.
And then—
Impact.
Pain.
Darkness.
"Oh…" Shane exhaled, half-laughing as the pieces came back together. "Truck-kun was at it again."
But I guess it failed seeing as am still here and not reborn in a fantasy world
The doctor blinked. "Truck… kun?"
He waved a weak hand trying to dismiss what he just said.
"Never mind. It's just… a stupid anime reference."
"Ah. I see." She chuckled softly. "Well, I'm glad to see your sense of humor is intact. That's a good sign."
She returned back to her notes, writing more observations that she picked up.
Shane stared at the ceiling, processing the reality of everything he had missed.
Three months.
His school… his part time job… his friends… his family…
Well he did not have many friends, and as for family he lived with his uncle, his wife and her two daughters.
Who had visited him?
Did anyone think he wouldn't wake up?
Did that girl survive?
Questions piled up faster than he could sort them out, each one heavier than the last.
The doctor adjusted a few of the monitors and continued, "We'll need to run a series of neurological tests to make sure everything is functioning correctly.
There may be some memory loss or dizziness, but those often improve with time."
Shane nodded slowly. "Right… yeah. Okay."
The doctor's voice softened. "You're extremely lucky, Shane. Most people with accidents like yours don't recover this well. Some don't recover at all.
The fact that you woke up, and are talking normally, is truly remarkable."
He wasn't sure what to say to that.
Lucky?
He didn't feel lucky.
He felt… displaced. Unconnected.
Like the world had moved on without him, which it had, obviously.
The doctor started preparing more equipment. Electrodes. A penlight. A reflex hammer.
Shane closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm his racing thoughts.
But the same memory kept replaying: the terrified face of that girl he pushed.
He wondered if she was safe. He wondered if she remembered him.
And somewhere under the confusion, fear, and exhaustion…
A quiet resolve began to take form.
He survived.
He woke up.
And now… he had to figure out what came next.