The next few days, you think it's days, pass in a blur of slipping consciousness. Fading in and out from assaultive waking to tumultuous darkness. You drift along losing all sense of time until you cant sleep anymore.
The bright surrounding which have assaulted you every waking moment has finally dimmed to a bearable frequency, the beams no longer glare into your skull with hostile intent, no longer the sterilized white that makes spots dance behind your eyes. It's now just a plain sterilized white which makes you feel cleaner and more healthy yet still with that ill undertone that tells you that you're in the hospital. A hostel of health and death in equal parts, a place where life is lit and extinguished both naturally and unnaturally.
The day you can't sleep marks the first day you haven't been embraced by the darkness. The first day you're completely human after nearly being stabbed to death. The first day your skin can finally feel, no more numbness to your flesh.
The light tingles against your fully conscious flesh, each beam sending a small sensation through you in uncomfortable yet oddly pleasant spikes.
You hear the steady beeping rhythm of the machines being disrupted by the soft thud of familiar footsteps. Black shoes owned by a handsome angular face. Dr Kai enters with his usual silent swagger, his face slack and relaxed as he fills out paperwork on a clipboard. The effort he puts into writing and walking makes it seem easy yet anybody else would've been extremely difficult, at least to write neatly on the move anyway.
"Your awake again, welcome back," the doctor says, tone light and cheerful, "a pink haired girl visited earlier, she seems worried."
Your heart rate increases, the fluttering is audible through the machine. Akane had visited you, she hadn't left you. She was visiting, you still have a shot. Your mind races happily at the news.
The Doctor glances at the monitor, "so you two are a thing huh?" He asks easily, voice calm and almost teasing.
Your tongue still feels too heavy and dry to move. Your face muscles contort in frustration at your own helplessness. The strong feeling of weakness permeates your being as you struggle to even form a few words. Your neck muscles flex and you nod, almost half heartedly, at him.
A small smile appears on his face as he jots more information down, the faint sound of pen scratching paper echoes loudly in the near silent room, your body has filtered most of the background noise out. You've finally fully adapted to the hospital room and the atmosphere that had assaults your senses.
"Oh and if you're ready, there's some officers waiting outside...should i send them in?" He asks, head tilting slightly, quizzically, curiously. The motion sounds louder than his words, the gentle childlike tilt making him seem more human than the other doctors you've seen in your previous brief moments of consciousness.
He offers you a cup filed with clear liquid, "water and pain killers," he explains, "you'll feel the pain soon so I'd drink now if I were you." He advises, hand still outstretched with the clear liquid, voice flat and matter of fact, fingers flexing around the cup with gentle, restrained impatience.
You take the cup and slowly sip the water down. The pain meds kick in, in a near instant you feel the cool numbness return to your small flesh. Each tiny tremble fading as the meds flood through you at high speed, each flutter of your heart making it increasingly difficult to concentrate but with the warping of your mind due to the drug induced state, it makes little difference.
Whatever pain medication was used by Dr. Kai was good shit. It makes you feel like a cloud, floating and carefree, relaxed but ready in case something goes wrong, in case someone barges in. The doctor chuckles softly, "continue resting I'll tell the police to come back later on, since you aren't in any state to answer their questions. Rest, and recuperate you mental strength...ok?" Kai tells you, with a hint of dismissal, clearly fed up of clearing up after you but too nice to stop.
Dr Kai keeps glancing over his shoulders at you, jotting more onto his clipboard.
Clearly there's something wrong.
I wonder what's wrong? You think, eyes glancing fearfully at the clipboard.