"Please, tell me it's going to be okay. Please tell me that I'll be alright." He turned to her eyes, his voice tearful, his eyes seeking comfort. Drifting...where am I?
A distant, echoic voice finally reached his ears: "It's going to be okay. Don't worry. You're going to be alright."
"I'm here; you're going to be fine." A new voice, this one sturdy and strong, but gentler than he could remember. Faintly familiar, but he could not place it.
Where...am I?
Something cool and comfortable rested on his chest.
Who...are...you?
"You're going to be alright. Don't worry," she whispered again, her voice, gentle and calming, like a lullaby. It drew the comfort that he had been craving out of thin air, as if she anticipated his needs.
But who...are...you? He took a quick breath of air. It was his, and smelled of his hospital room. The same odor he had smelled for the last twelve hours, and, before then, the day before, and, all the days before. It was his room.
Nothing had changed in his room. The way the lights were positioned, the temperature, the sink. The bedside table, the white plastic coffee cup on it, still held a quarter of a cup of lukewarm coffee. He watched it turn as the cup poured itself, watched it turn and turn and turn until the cup was empty.
"You're going to be just fine, don't worry."
The cup was on the floor now.
The words were fading.
He was floating, falling, but didn't care. "Please...tell me..." he cried, barely a whimper now. "Who..."
A flash...and he was lost.
"You're going to be just fine. Don't worry."
But he could not answer.
"Please, tell me it's going to be okay. Please tell me that I'll be alright." He turned to her eyes, his voice tearful, his eyes seeking comfort. Fading...where am I?
"It's going to be okay. Don't worry. You're going to be alright." Confused, shaken, he listened to the mysterious voices in his head as they repeated, separated, and combined in a disjointed, nonsensical fashion, overlapping each other, mixing with each other, telling him things he did not want to hear, and which did nothing to calm and soothe him.
He moaned. He had an overwhelming need to sleep, but nothing to replace it. The voices pressed on him, egging him, pushing him to wake, to move, to speak. He fought the falling sensation in his stomach that itched at his skin and lungs, causing him to wheeze and choke for air.
The stranger in his room, a part of him now, pressed a palm on his chest. Softly, comfortingly, it could only be that nurse. He wanted to believe it, needed to believe it. He was so tired...so...so...
He coughed. Light flooded his eyes. The invasive, harsh light. Darkness. Darkness...darkness.
"You went back to sleep," the nurse spoke to him. "I don't know why you wouldn't wake up, but..." She twisted the knob on the overhead, the one that bathes the room in harsh artificial sunlight and lightens the room for his benefit. "Exhausted."
"Exhausted?" Groaning, his fingers twitched.
"Sleep, it'll help you heal, you'll feel better tomorrow. I've been watching you, and you're too low on energy to..." But she stopped talking as she realized that his body had collapsed and his eyes were unseeing.
So tired...he thought, as he slipped back into darkness.
"You're going to be alright."
"I'm here; you're going to be fine."
"You're going to be alright," she said to him. The words were kinder to his ears than he could remember hearing. He knew he wasn't going to be fine, that his body was far from alright, but found some comfort in knowing that she was here.
"I...really don't...feel so good..." he croaked out.
The nurse turned to him, and covered his forehead with the palm of her hand. "You're in pain, I'm guessing. I just gave you a dose of pain killers, but it'll take a little while for it to kick in."
He was silent. The nurse gave him some time to relax, and soon, as she had guessed, he had fallen asleep again. He awoke a few hours later, only to find the same nurse at his side.
He tried to talk, to ask questions, but found himself unable. Exhausted and sore, he went back to sleep. He awoke again some time later, and again, found her at his side.
"Your vitals are down a little", she said to him, "but not too bad. You should be fine. I'll just give you a little bit of this," she said, pressing an uncomfortable-looking needle full of red liquid into his vein.
The nurse walked to the door, and turned to him, as if she were going to leave. "You should be able to rest better now," she said, and left.
He drifted into sleep, restless. He awoke again, and, once again, the nurse was there. "You're looking better today," she said. "But...I'm going to have to take some blood later. But hey, if you are feeling better, you can have something to eat." She moved to the door, and left.
He was alone again.
