Nonconformity | Henry Creel

I Can Wait

I was left with no other option aside from biding my time, waiting with bated breath until a swell of light finally pulled me from my colorless stupor.

If I was sleeping, I did not dream. For hours, all I knew was expansive, perpetual darkness. I tried to summon my abilities a number of times, but I couldn't keep myself focused. My entire body ached. Even breathing was a chore. The air around me was stale and damp, leaving a wanting pit in my lungs. I felt as though I was moments away from drowning. Each one of my senses were gone. Perhaps I was dead.

Where was I, then? Purgatory? Even the lab was a step up from whatever 'this' was. It almost felt disrespectful, like an insult to myself, to crave the bleached white hallways and the blustering of the air conditioner. One could call it humbling; yearning for the place I hated more than anything else. Part of me didn't even want to admit it, stubbornly holding onto the opinion that the lab was the ninth circle of hell.

I hated being wrong.

Just as the thought crossed my mind, a pin prick of light appeared in the darkness. For the millionth time, I tried to move, tried to summon what dismal energy I had remaining. And just like the million times before, I failed.

The light grew in a slow, steady crescendo. I watched the darkness wither and decay before my eyes. To my left, it ebbed and flowed, as though it were fighting an invisible war with the ensuing light. For a little while, it stubbornly refused to retreat, but the war had a clear victor. The luminescence cut through the inky blackness like a knife comprised of pure sunlight.

In no time at all, the darkness was gone.

My head pounded with an ear-splitting ache. I gritted my teeth and tried to open my eyes, but the white-hot glare of the lab's lights made the task impossibly difficult. My left arm throbbed with a pain I could only describe as bone deep. However, it was my leg which took the brunt of my body's ire. Nerves, muscle, tissue, and bone all cried for reprieve against the never ending surge of hurt.

I was too scared to move. If my afflictions stung this badly when I was still, I could only imagine the pain if I dared to move.

I forced my eyes open only to be blinded for a few moments. A soft exhale escaped my lips, but soon the brightness died down and my bleary eyes could make out the room. A bag of fluid was propped up on a hanger to my side. A tube ran from the bag to my arm, which ended in the form of a needle burrowed in the crook of my elbow. I winced at the sight and averted my gaze.

I sat in some sort of hospital room. At first, I thought it was the nurse's office, but upon closer inspection I realized the space was far more advanced than that. Equipment of all kinds hung up on the wall, though I couldn't possibly imagine what they were used for. Gauze, bandaids, waste bins, and cotton swabs practically burst from a cabinet to my right. A few feet away, a screen displayed a jagged green line which spiked upwards and downwards with an audible 'beep.'

Just when I thought I'd seen all the room had to offer, my eyes landed on a pair of inky black work boots. The word "fuck" fell quietly from my lips.

Peter was splayed on a chair to my left, head in his hand as he gingerly massaged his temple. His gaze was glued to the floor, eyebrows furrowed together in silent contemplation. The view was certainly one to behold. I'd never seen him so... casual. That back-breaking posture he always wore was a memory as he leaned into the palm of his hand and spread his knees until they touched either side of the chair. A few blonde strands of hair fell out of place and brushed against his forehead.

It was his clothing that caught my attention. He adorned his signature white button down and white slacks, but the clothes weren't blemishless this time. They weren't so immaculate it almost hurt to behold. Dark, crimson stains marred the material along the center of his shirt, as though he'd buttoned it up with bloody fingers. My eyes flitted over to his hand, and just as I expected, his skin was dotted with red.