liquid acid

9: awareness

I woke up in a hospital bed three days later, finally completely sober. I had little fragments of a memory of being taken to a hospital, but I couldn't put together a full recollection in my mind. When I woke up, the first thing I felt was all of the pain. My hands and arms were covered in bandages, and moving, even just a little bit, made the horrible aching even worse. I was hooked up to various things I didn't even know the names for, and I was wearing a hospital gown that smelled like all sorts of repulsive chemicals.

Cillian was sitting in the room, a visitor's pass pinned to the front of his shirt. He was wearing a green long sleeved shirt and a pair of worn down jeans. He didn't wear green often, but it was just then that I noticed how well that shade of green complemented his dark complexion. It was funny to me that he was wearing a brighter colored shirt at all, since he usually wore more gray and brown and black clothing.

He was looking at me when I looked at him, some tired expression in his eyes. He didn't react until I spoke, saying hoarsely, "Cillian?"

He immediately stood up, walked to my bedside, and hit a "call nurse" button on a remote that was sitting by my hand. "Jake," he said, "Are you okay, now? How are you feeling?"

"I feel like shit, man."

He let out a sigh of relief. "Thank fuck."

I frowned. "Wh... what?"

Cillian shook his head. "No, I didn't mean... I mean this is the first time you've answered coherently to anything I've asked you."

I tried to sit up slightly, still barely able to move without something in me hurting. "Dude, I don't remember anything. What happened?"

He rubbed his face. "Well, basically, Jessie had stayed late at the club to help clean up after all of the bands on Friday. She was there until like four in the morning, and that was when she found you outside the club, in nothing but your t-shirt and boxers, curled up on the ground and freaking out. She said you got all cut up from all of the broken glass out by the dumpsters, and when she came to get you, you were clinging to her like you were trying to hide from something. She kept trying to ask you what was wrong, but you couldn't answer properly. So she called an ambulance and you were brought to the hospital. You've been here through the weekend. Every time you woke up, you were spewing some nonsense about snakes bleeding out of the wall or saying that you had to get to school or else your mom would be pissed. You would even try asking me for a cigarette, then would immediately say you already had one. Then you'd say you dropped it, and would be looking through the sheets for it. And every time you talked to me, you would call me by these really fucking random names, like Robert and Matthew, and you would be asking about something that didn't even make any sense."

As he explained, some more fragments of memories came back to me, but it still wasn't coherent enough for me to have a complete recollection.

"Jessie said she found your coat down the street from the club," he continued. "There were datura seeds in your pocket. That's what you took, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

He sighed again, leaning on the edge of the bed. "You're lucky you're not dead. You're lucky Jessie found you before something terrible could've happened."

"Yeah," I said again. "I owe her."

"Fuck yeah, you do."

I relaxed a little, leaning back into the pillow behind my head. "What about the others? Have they been here?"

"Alaya and Ryan came by yesterday. You didn't recognize them either. They were planning on coming by again today, but they got busy with final projects. If you aren't out by this evening, there's a good chance that they'll be able to spare some time."