New Wings

Chapter 3 - Interrogation

Mitch's POV

After I sang, security guards and other doctors came rushing in.

My panic had subsided some, but as they began to approach me it broke the surface again.

"Don't hurt me," I begged, still crying. "Please. I don't know what's happening. I don't know anything about myself. All I remember is my blood, my feathers, my tears, that's all I know. I swear it!"

"We're not going to hurt you, Mitch." Says a doctor with a receding hairline and a massive overbite. "We're trying to help you."

"Then why did you take away my wings?" I asked.

"Wings?" A squat old doctor echoes.

"I have wings, well, I had wings." I replied. "They were white, a span of about 5-and-a-half feet."

"You didn't have any wings when Scott Hoying found you." The balding doctor says.

"Scott Hoying?" I asked. "I don't know any Scott Hoying. Why did he find me?"

"He was the one who found you in that alley. That man saved your life!" Says the short doctor.

My eyebrows knit as I tried to remember. "Tall, blond hair? Blue eyes?"

They all nodded.

"His name is Scott Hoying?"

They nod again.

A security guard kneels in front of me. "Mr. Grassi we have some questions for you."

I swallowed hard. "Okay," I choked out.

"Do you remember anything from the night of August 17th, 2012?" He asks.

"I told you, I don't remember anything." I replied.

"Do you remember-" He began.

"I SAID I DON'T REMEMBER ANYTHING!" I snapped, breathing hard.

"August 17th, 2012 was the night you died." The security guard replies.

I sat up straighter. "I...died?"

The security guard nods gravely. "Just over two years ago."

"How?" I asked.

"You were driving. It was late, raining hard, and you collided head-on with a drunk driver. You were killed on impact." He replies.

My eyes widened. "The voice..." I whispered.

"A voice?" The balding doctor inquires, pen ready.

"As I was falling, I could hear a voice. It was rough and gravelly, yet at the same time...comforting." I said.

The doctors began to write furiously.

I watched the squat doctor's hand.

"Mental illness?" I exclaimed.

The squat doctor's eyes widened. She looked down at her clipboard, then at me, then back to her clipboard. "How did you...?"

"First you say I have amnesia, and that I'm depressed and suicidal, now you're questioning my mental stability?" I smiled. "What else is wrong with me?" I sat with my heels against each other. I wrapped my hands around my feet and rocked back and forth. "Huh?"

The doctors looked at each other.

"May I see Scott Hoying?" I asked as an awkward silence hung in the sterile air. "Is he here?"

"No." The doctors bark without skipping a beat. "You injured one of our nurses when you shattered the glass. We can't trust you with a civilian just yet."

I nodded. "Ah, I see. All right. Just let me know when I can." I climbed back into my hospital bed and reinserted the IV. "I'd like to speak with him."