Page 76 of Dark Room Junkie

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Alex

As my consciousness merged back with my body, the force of gravity pressed down on me more intensely. I felt like a massive boulder, unable to move, while my lungs automatically expanded and contracted like bellows. The fact that a machine was breathing for me didn’t matter.

When I regained consciousness, the tube had been removed from my throat. My lungs were working on their own again, and even in a half-asleep state, I relished being able to breathe freely once more. Exhaustion still coursed through my veins like thick slime, making my limbs heavy. Above me, thoughts circled like vultures, but I was not yet able to grasp any of them. Even opening my eyes required too much energy. I kept drifting off.

But that was okay. I felt warm and secure, experiencing a sense of contentment finally catching up on the sleep I’d been missing for weeks. And in the distance, I heard a steady beeping.

Gradually, I returned to full consciousness. As much as I wanted to drift back to sleep, the sound became increasingly intrusive. All at once, reality hit me like a sledgehammer.

I was at Livio’s.

I couldn’t breathe anymore.

Fuck!

Startled, I jolted awake, opened my eyes wide, and emitted some strained sound. I was lying in a dim room, but I comprehended that I was in the hospital. Instinctively, I yanked down the oxygen mask and gasped for air. This wasn’t a dream. I’d endured a damn tube down my throat. The face of a young man unexpectedly appeared above me. He had dark curls and a friendly smile. But he wasn’t wearing a doctor’s coat or nurse attire.

“Easy there. Everything’s fine. You’ve made it through the worst.”

With practiced movements, he put the mask back on my face, and I felt immediate relief of being able to breathe more easily. Exhausted, I lay back down and closed my eyes.

This can’t be real.

“I’m Martin,” the man said, who couldn’t have been much younger than me. “I’m here on duty. Do you need anything?”

A leaden heaviness settled over me, and I shook my head slowly. However, I couldn’t take my eyes off Martin. It felt good to have someone here who was present and not wearing a doctor’s coat. Books lay on the small table next to the window, and the curtain was drawn almost closed, leaving only a small gap.

“It’s just before sunrise. Sunday morning,” he said in his calm manner. “You’re probably exhausted. I’ll let you sleep a bit longer.”

Tears welled up in my eyes as I gradually became aware of my situation. Martin noticed my confusion and pulled the chair next to the bed. He sat down beside me, smiling as if he knew that everything would be okay again.

“I’m sorry,” I whimpered, wiping the tears from my eyes. It dawned on me that I was wearing some weird hospital gown.

“No need to apologize,” he said understandingly. “I’m here. Are you cold? Do you want another blanket?”

I nodded, feeling a sudden chilling coldness. Martin fetched one from the closet and draped it over me. As he lifted it up to my chest, he gently touched my right wrist.

“Careful. You’re still hooked up to the IV.”

Once again, I wiped the tears from my eyes. I didn’t know why I was crying, but it certainly wasn’t out of joy for being alive. Like a waterfall, all the shit was crashing down on me, and I no longer knew where my head was at. I’d been under so much pressure in the last few days that it wasn’t a surprise my body had given out. Yet even now, I couldn’t seem to organize my thoughts.

“Should I get someone for you? A doctor?”

“No. Please don’t. I just ... want ...”

I had no idea what I wanted, and I was uncertain about how to tame the chaos was also a mystery to me. But one thing was certain—this calmness Martin was giving me wouldn’t last long.

It wasn’t the first time I’d been admitted to a hospital. The long scar on my arm reminded me every day of the dark time a few years ago. It was so far back that I hadn’t even noticed I’d gotten lost in it again.

“Do you have any pain?” Martin asked, and I noticed he spoke in a different dialect.

His words managed to calm me down even more. I no longer had any physical pain. The burning sensation in my chest disappeared and I no longer felt dizzy. I slowly shook my head to indicate I was okay.

“But there’s still this other pain, isn’t there?”

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