Surrender to exhaustion

Try as you might, you cannot find the strength to focus the way you know you need to. The more you try, the more exhausted you feel, until finally, you simply close your eyes and surrender to the approaching darkness.

* * * * * * * * *

You wake up with a start. The first thing you notice is how light your arms feel as you lift them. It is then that you realize you are no longer restrained by straps, and you are able to move freely.

You look at your hands and arms, and you realize with a thrill that they are your own! It seems so long since you have looked at them through your own eyes that they almost seem alien to you, but you can’t imagine a more welcome sight!

You turn, expecting to see TC’s recently-vacated body, Dr. Burbank, and his assistants, and only then do you realize you are not even in the same room anymore. You are alone in what appears to be a hospital room.

You lift your hand to your forehead. “How king was I ****?” you ask yourself.

Your hand makes contact with something unexpected, and you realize the top of your head is covered in surgical wrapping. As you gingerly explore it with your hand, you feel a mild sensation of discomfort on the top of your head.

“Well, look who’s finally awake!”

You look toward the voice and see a nurse enter the room. She is smiling as she asks, “How are you feeling, Justin?”

“Wha— Where am I?” you ask, feeling very disoriented.

“You’re at County General Hospital,” she says, checking the monitors to which you are connected by wires and tubes. “How much do you remember about the accident?”

“Accident?” You blink slowly, in confusion. “There was no accident.... I was at the school, and there was this experiment that went wrong, and Dr. Burbank —“ You stop, trying to sort it all out in your head. The events of the past few days all seem jumbled together as if they were all part of a weird dream that fades quickly upon awakening.

The nurse puts a comforting arm on your hand. “It’s alright, Justin. With head trauma, there are often some memory issues at first. Just try to rest for now. I’m going to call your parents; they will be so thrilled to hear you are awake. I think they just went to the cafeteria. I’ll also send the doctor in as soon as he is available.”

“Dr. Burbank?” you ask.

She gives you a peculiar look and says, “Yes, as soon as I can reach him.”

She leaves the room, and you lay back against the pillow. Your thoughts are increasingly jumbled and slow, and your head is beginning to ache.

“What is going on here?” you ask yourself.

You look up at the machine to which you are attached. The monitor shows several wavering lines, which you assume are your vital signs. A large IV bag of clear liquid is slowly dripping into a tube that snakes downward and into your left arm. A couple of glass bottles are also attached to the machine, and their contents slowly drip out and mix with the liquid of the IV bag before making their way into your veins.

A wave of panic floods over you, as elements of the past few days come unbidden into your mind. The vivid memory of being on the run, of jumping from one person’s body to another, and the overwhelming sensation of paranoia come to you and just as quickly dissolve away.

In the confusing mixture of disjointed memories, you also see images of a powerful erotic nature. Naked cheerleaders in the shower... Sex between Jeff and Amy, and through their eyes... An Asian gas station attendant and a lustful nighttime meeting in a park.... A drunken erotic escapade as a black football player in a secluded cabin.... The memories are all incredibly powerful, arousing, and incredibly vivid, and just as quickly as they come, they fade away as vague, distant fantasies.

You touch your head again as the aching intensifies and wonder if the pain is from whatever wound the bandage covers or from your bizarre jumble of thoughts.

“Justin! Oh, Sweetie! I’ve never been so happy to see anything in my life!”

A woman rushes through the door and throws her arms around you, embracing you tightly. She is holding you so closely that you cannot see her until she pulls herself away. Tears of joy and relief flow down her cheeks, and she smiles at you with a look that is a mixture of worry, relief, and exhaustion.

“Wouldn’t you know that the one time your father and I leave your side, that’s when you decide to come out of your coma?” she says, taking hold of your hand as she sits next to your bed.

“My father?” you ask, blankly. You have no idea who this woman is or why she would be so happy to see you, much less why she would be here with your father.

“Yes, your father... He will be right in, Dear. He is talking to the nurse.”

“And Mom?” you ask, looking toward the door, hoping to see someone familiar.

You feel the woman squeeze your hand. “Don’t worry, Dear; I’m not going anywhere.”

You have never had such difficulty thinking clearly in your life. Having never experimented with ****, you don’t know what it feels like to be intoxicated or to have a hangover, but you suspect it couldn’t be more debilitating than this.

A masculine voice from the hallway attracts your attention, and the woman turns toward the door and says, “Here’s your father now.”

You look to the door, eager to see your dad’s familiar face. Instead, you find yourself looking at none other than Dr. Burbank. He enters, looks at you, beaming, and says, “Welcome back, son!”