Haze

Day 4 - Morning

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sleep did not come easily for me the rest of that night. My mind was abuzz. My ears were alert. My heart was racing. That figment of fear I could feel resonating from my earliest memories was very real now and very much a part of me.

I had spent the last few hours watching the stream of light move up the wall until everything was bright. Sunlight now filled the entire room unimpededly.

As the pain of my injuries started to subside, I started aching from the rigidity cot itself. Though I doubted I was well enough, I longed to sit up, to stand, to walk.

Pushing my palms onto the wooden edges of the cot. Transferring my strength from my stomach to my biceps, I lifted my shoulders off the back of the cot with a great deal of strain. My arms shook, and I held my breath, focusing on taking as much of the work off my abs as possible.

When my strength dwindled, and the pain started intensifying, my arms gave. I fell back to the cot with a dull thud. My mind spun lightheadedly. When my breathing returned to normal, I attempted lifting my legs. This came with an ease that inspired me.

Up and down, side to side, bent and straightened, I was pleased with how painlessly my lower extremities moved.

I had guzzled much of the water through my restless night. It now sat nearly empty on the table beside me. My stomach grumbled with echoing emptiness.

Did I dare call for East?

The ache in my head greeted me with an unwelcomed thump, beating against all sides of my skull in a strange, painful unison. I closed my eyes and allowed the pain to take its toll. After a few minutes, the pain diminished to a dull ache.

Tossing back the blanket, I spied the shirt I was wearing. There was no print of any kind. Just a dull army green cotton shirt.

I pulled up the shirt, exposing my mid-section. The bruising looked the same as yesterday. Wide-spread and incorrigible. It was reassuring that the blood spot in the middle of the gauze hadn’t grown any larger.

Curious, I pulled back the same corner of the tape East had the day before and took a look underneath. A stitched gash looked back at me. The skin was reddish and puffy, but the craftsmanship of the sutures looked legitimate.

When the bandage was back in its place and the shirt pulled back down, I kicked the blanket off my legs. My legs appeared to be unscathed and uninjured compared to my arms and stomach. This fact made me believe I had been wearing pants of some kind when I had been running. Pants and a short-sleeve shirt. My legs were protected in the fall, but my arms weren’t.

I was slightly disappointed in the lack of helpful discoveries. I was hoping to see a tattoo or an aged scar that could possibly spark some hint of a flashback. But I came up empty handed.

As my stomach turned incessantly, I debated calling East’s name for a moment when I started hearing stale noises coming from outside the room. I made assumptions about each noise but could easily discern the footsteps from the muted cacophony.

I felt a strange feeling of nervousness as I heard East approach the door and fiddle with the lock.

East stepped into the room, his expression just as blank as I’ve come to know. He was carrying a plate of bread and another bottle of water. Speechlessly, he set the items on the table next to me and took a seat in the chair.

“Feeling okay?”

I nodded. “I’d like to try to sit up. I couldn’t do it on my own.”

East nodded and stood, stepping out of the room. I waited, listened as he opened a door, took a few steps, and then made the same series in reverse until he was back in the room, pillows in hand.

I repeated the same process I tried earlier that morning. Palms on the edge of the cot, hoisting myself with my arms and not my abs. As I lifted, East slipped his hands under my arms, assisting my maneuvering until I was upright.

“Does that hurt?”

“No,” I said as East quickly stuffed the pillows behind my back. I leaned back slowly on my own and assessed my new attitude. I could breathe easily and didn’t feel any discomfort or shooting pains. “Thank you,” I whispered, settling in.

East sat back down and handed me the plate.

“What’s wrong with your lights?” I asked. East looked at me, brows furrowed slightly. “You used a lantern last night. There’re no light fixtures in here. No electricity?”

“Maybe someday.”

I took a bite of the bread. It was thin. Nearly melted on my tongue. “Are you a doctor?”

“No.”

“How did you know how to take care of me and my injuries?”

“I didn’t. It was my first time.”

“How did you find me?”

East didn’t answer right away. I wondered if he would. I finished the first slice of bread quickly.

“Where are we?” I moved on.

“My house.”

I sighed, running my fingertip along the crust of the bread. “Are you going to tell me anything useful, like why I can’t shout and why you lock the door each time you leave?”

I moved my eyes from the bread up to East. He was looking at me. “Soon,” he said.

“What can we talk about?”

“Why don’t you tell me something.”

“Okay,” I said, slightly confused. “I'm not sure what I can tell you. I don’t remember anything.”

“Why don’t you tell me what you do remember.”

“Running,” I started. “From what or where to, I couldn’t say. But I know I was afraid and didn’t want to stop. It was dark, and I couldn’t see very well. I think I had been running for a while. I was really tired and drained. And then I fell. I remember falling and crashing into things and hitting my head and my stomach. I remember landing and still wanting to run, but I couldn’t get myself to my feet. I remember you. I remember you picking me up.”

Then a cold chill squeezed me. I remembered something else. “There was someone else there,” I gasped. “There was someone with you. I remember seeing two shadows, two people. Who was with you?”

“You’re mistaken,” East said dismissively.

I shook my head as I replayed the scene in my mind. “No, I’m not mistaken. There was another person, I know it. Why would you deny that?”

“When I found you, you were barely conscious. You were mumbling incoherently, your eyes were rolling, you were unresponsive. How could you be certain of what you saw?”

I considered it for a moment. At a certain point, my memory turns into flashes rather than a consistent account. He could be right. Maybe I was misremembering. Maybe I was seeing things.

“Do you remember anything before running?”

“No,” I mumbled before biting off the remaining slice of bread. I handed East the plate. “Can I ask one more question?”

East nodded.

“When I’m well, when I’m able to get out of this bed on my own, will I be free to leave?”

“Where would you go?”

“That’s not what I asked.”

East sat silent for a moment. His fingers fidgeted methodically. “Freedom to leave and choosing to leave are two different things.”

“You think I’d choose to stay?”

“With understanding, I think you’d see you’re in the right place.”

“Help me understand.”

“Go slow.”

Those two words were somewhat of an annoying mantra of East’s. “Have you ever forgotten who you are? Had no memories? No idea what you even look like? Have you ever been in any semblance of my position?”

“I have not.”

“You telling me to ‘go slow’ isn’t helpful. It’s infuriating.”

Without warning, East stood from the chair and walked out of the room. His footsteps moved farther and farther away, stopped, then came back. He walked into the room with a small hand mirror in his grip.

With the glass pressed against his leg, East sat back down in the chair. “Would this help?” he asked, holding up the mirror. The back was facing me.

I slowly reached for the mirror, taking it with care to keep the back facing me. The handle was wooden and sleek, maybe from years and years of use, or maybe it was just made to appear aged.

“I’ve never had to meet myself before,” I whispered. “At least I don’t think I have. It’s kind of scary.”

Closing my eyes, I flipped the handle the mirror around. Quickly, I opened my eyes to my own reflection. I brought the mirror closer. I didn’t know what I expected. I didn’t know what to think. All I could think was I didn’t recognize the face looking back at me.

I took care to study my reflection. I peeled back my lips and examined my teeth. I turned my head this way and that, hoping an inkling of a memory would come back to me, some sort of recognition could be found in the often unnoticed corners of the face. There was nothing.

“Can I keep this in here?” I asked East, gesturing to the mirror.

East nodded. “Anything?”

I turned back to the stranger’s reflection...