Skeletons
-- EXCERPT: DELICATELY, MATT’S EYES OPENED to a world of white haze. All the objects were silhouettes. That was until, Dr. Brown poked through the gust of blurriness. “Thank God! You’re up,” he wheezed. Matt peered around. The sunlight poured into Room 402, inch by inch. He was in the room as usual. The streaks of sunlight hit the edge of the hospital bed before it dazzled on his skin. His skin was cold and so…fair. Slimmer, shades of purple and pink concaved his cheekbones—a shade of baby blue muddled his skin. “Ah,” Matt groaned, once Dr. Brown flashed a miniature flashlight back and forth at his eyes. At least the reaction was a good sign—the teenage patient could see. Then, a nurse closed the curtains. It was back to the darkened and sinister atmosphere that gobbled up Matt. “I don’t feel too well,” he said, barely audible, as the middle of his bottom lips splintered with red. Another nurse dabbed a tissue against his mouth. He took control of it, as though he was refusing another medical employee’s touch. “It’s because you’ve been in a coma for four weeks,” Dr. Brown chimed in with his patient. “I…What?” Matt scanned the room until his vision settled upon what should have been Captain Obvious to him. His wrists, ankles, and chest were no longer strapped to the bed. Instead, all three areas of his body were wrapped-up. The white puffy bandages resembled the texture of clouds on a springtime afternoon. While Matt’s eyes grew lukewarm, he hoisted his noodle size wrists closer to his eyes. “Wha—Wha—What happened?” he asked. “You had an anxiety attack and went into shock…” It seemed that Dr. Brown dreaded the moment, even though he had scripted out his dialogue for when Matt reawakened, like any good doctor would do. “Sorry, it’s just…I’m not sure…Matt, I’m not sure just how much you remember at all.” The outside world. It was breathtaking, as the cotton ball clouds sailed across the sky like ships out to sea. “What’s the date?” Matt asked moments later. It appeared that the truth cuffed at Dr. Brown’s heart. “August 5th,” he said. Matt winced at the impossible and yet, the possible. He broke down into tears and sheltered his face. Just then, his palms met a rigid paper that was on the bottom of his lip. It made sense now—he was out of it, unaware of what was a possibility…and the impossible… He cried even more. “Your lip bled on and off. The white bandage cloth was too big.” Slowly, but surely, Dr. Brown reached out for his patient. He slid his fingers atop Matt’s hand and gave it a pat. “Thankfully Lisa brought in a Spiderman bandage. She said you’re a fan of the franchise. I heard there’s going to be another installment…” Dr. Brown gave a nervous chuckle. Cat scrabbled onto Matt’s tongue, left speechless and almost…numb. “You know,” Dr. Brown started again, “she comes to visit you almost every day. Usually around lunchtime. She’ll be real happy that you’re awake.” He did not reply. “Look, Matt, I know you’re exhausted”—Dr. Brown selected his words cautiously—“I get that. You’ll need more rest. I just hope you can talk to us. Whenever you’re ready.” The pain took over Matt, as his leg gave a spasm. “I don’t understand how time flies by so…fast…” Silence. “Your heart was beating in a peculiar pattern,” Dr. Brown said. “At first, it was pumping at a rapid rate. And then, it was beating…slowly. And then, it went quickly again.” Off the doc’s studying look, Matt asked, “What?” “I just can’t get that image out of my head. After Lisa was removed from the room, we discharged the bed straps from your body when you began to lose…You lost a lot of blood.” Matt’s eyes descended to his wrists; his mind illustrated all the possibilities and what the memory for both Dr. Brown and his colleagues must have appeared like: nurses and doctors rotated and took his pulse, as well as patched up the holes where the blood oozed out. For some reason, Matt saw it. He imagined that his own blood was a zombie-gut neon green, just like the classic horror films. But it frightened him, and he shut his eyes to erase the horrific illustration. The image stayed with him anyhow. “Matt?” Dr. Brown’s voice echoed through Matt’s state of horror. “Where was I bleeding?” It was mostly rhetorical, as Matt tried to digest the imminent response. “Where was the blood coming from?” When Matt’s eyes peeled open, they were red with angst. Dr. Brown pointed to the upper half of his patient’s chest. “The scars,” Dr. Brown answered. “Lisa—she swore you were dead when she saw us trying to stop the blood.” He sniffled and coughed, as though the rest of the alphabet clogged up his throat. “We all saw the scars when the blood eventually…came to a stop.” Matt glanced away. For a moment, he almost fooled himself while the tears streamed down his face. Dr. Brown was tentative until, “A worldwide search was put out two weeks ago. Matt…” Compressing his fist with his mouth, he prevented a scream. “Matt…” Cat got his tongue. Matt noticed and watched as anxiety and pain consumed his doctor’s shaken body. Before the Spiderman bandage detached from Matt’s cherry rose lips, Dr. Brown ascended to his feet. “Excuse me,” was all he said before he scampered out of Room 402. “Dr. Brown?” Matt listened to his doctor’s fancy schmancy shoes swerve across the tile. The fretful voices of nurses and doctors echoed throughout the hallway as they called out for their boss’s attention. “Doctor…” Even Matt’s voice was lost. “Brown?” Wherever his doctor fled, Matt saw no other reason but to wait…and wait for him. He sniffled, and with a revelation, he gasped. He remembered…and his eyes returned to the cheese holes in the ceiling. ‘They’re missing…They believe you. You are not or will ever be alone again.’
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