by Brianna G. Harte
PREVIOUSLY, ON “THE KNIGHT OF XEO”
Distinct words were spoken, whether they were to me or someone else, I could not tell. It would not have made a difference either way. Something came down on my chest and moments later, a hard object came across the area by my face. The fresh air could no longer come into my lungs. Much stiffer air came instead, a disappointing change. I was lifted onto a hard surface and voices fell away. I wished I knew what was going on. A voice I could understand. A snake maybe, that could talk to me, despite my inherent hesitation of them in each encounter. None of it came. Instead, a thin, sharp object pierced my skin. I tensed up. No. Not here too. Within an instant, I fell away toward another nightmare.
Even before my eyes opened, the atmosphere chilled my bones. Goosebumps rose across my skin as a subtle air current ran through the room. Despite what the man claiming to be a doctor said, the room remained a dark, uncomfortable room. I had a vague idea of what a hospital looked like, and this wasn’t anything like it. No light, aside from the bluish glow beneath a door, existed. No one was around. Not a breath besides my own seemed to be within any radius of my senses.
I lay alone in the dimmed room with needles stuck in my skin for a long while. During this time, it seemed that being able to see little and know a faint amount of what was going on was no better than not being able to see at all. The lack of knowing that nothing was happening all around me struck me as uncomfortable. I wanted someone to talk to. I wanted to find friends, my parents, but I had no idea where to look. Even if I knew where I was, my past was still a blur, which frustrated me. However, it didn’t hurt me as much as the shiver-inducing voice breaking through the nothing.
The door that had the glow flowing from beyond it opened gradually, and the light ceased. I knew what was coming though. The slow pacing of his steps and cool voice entering the room told me enough.
“How are we doing, Kasha?”
Although I knew his figure, I could not help re-imagining an anaconda, testing to see how hard he would have to squeeze before I gave in.
I didn’t bother answering. My shoulders flexed to move my arms across each other, but they were still strapped down to the bed or table, whichever I was on.
“Everything is going well,” he spoke again. “Despite those strange dreams you keep having, your results are improving.”
My interest was peaked. “What results? What are you testing me for?”
“Oh, it’s just something of mine. You’ll see soon enough.”
My eyes widened as I inhaled deeply. “What kind of a hospital is this?”
Copyright © 2017 Brianna G. Harte. All rights reserved.