In a Dark Room

Pain.

Cold.

Darkness.

The young man lay on the ground, slowly rousing himself from unconsciousness. His body wriggles slightly, each movement sending searing, sharp sensations throughout his entire being.

He groans, letting out a half-hearted sound that despite its quietude seemed to echo in the space around him. His eyes, crusted shut from something, crack open slowly. He can barely manage to move his head, but all he can see is darkness. He blinks several times to make sure his eyes are actually open. It's obviously not a dream.

"The pain is too real," he recognizes as he futilely attempts to straighten himself. On his back, he swings one of his arms out, his face cringing as he lets out a gasp of air. "Alright," he thinks to himself. He swings his other arm out. Another gasp. He lays back for a moment, shutting his eyes in preparation.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

He musters whatever strength he has remaining into propping himself up. The pain is incredible.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

He grits his teeth, his eyes still shut tight as he settles himself. He opens his eyes, taking note once again of the darkness. He blinks. Still dark.

"Where the fuck am I?" he wonders, still breathing heavily. Closing his eyes, he tries to remember. His head aches tremendously. "My name is David. I'm David. Ok. We've got that established." Images of his wife and his two daughters flash into his mind. Lara. He suddenly longed for his wife. Wherever he is, whatever pain he's in, she would bring instant relief. But she isn't here. And neither are Gen and Emma. He's alone, or so he seems to be.

David feels around a bit with his hands, being careful not to move too much, still struggling with the pain and rigidity of his muscles. How long has he been here? Judging from how he feels, it could have been days for all he knew. Cold concrete. That's all he could feel at his fingertips.

"Think!" he says to himself. The last thing he can remember is being at work. Another overnight shift at the hospital. "God damnit, David. Remember."

**********

BEEP BEEP BOOP BEEP BEEP

It was another long night in the ICU. David's eyelids fluttered as he turned his attention away from the computer screen and toward his patient in the room in front of him. Through the window he could see bright lights flashing from the ventilator as it spit out its repetitive alarms.

"Fucking vent," he muttered to himself as he casually stood up from his stool, mockingly mimicking the ventilator alarms. Sliding back the curtain, David entered the room and stepped toward the ventilator, still flashing its lights and blaring its alarm. Mute. That's better. David looked over at his patient. 84 year old male, extremely frail in appearance, admitted to the ICU for end-stage heart failure. He wouldn't be long. He's close to maxed out on his therapy, and there's been no sign of improvement.

The patient was coughing. That's what was causing the vent to alarm. David walked over to the other side of the bed where the IV pumps were and pressed some buttons to give a large dose of sedative. He put his hand on the frail patient's shoulder and patted it lightly.

"There, there, Mr. Kilborn. This will make you more comfortable," David said reassuringly. He waited for a few moments for the medication to kick in. The patient suddenly looked less tense, his body resting back further into the bed. Satisfied with the comfort of his patient, David turned back to walk out to his computer. He pushed the curtain aside once again and plopped himself back into his stool. He spun in place a couple of times before coming to rest with his elbows in front of the computer. He let out a long sigh before going back to chart. While typing away at his notes, he thought of his wife, Lara, and smiled. He adored her. Many men will say it, but David was truly grateful to whatever force of nature lead him to this woman. "I'm the luckiest guy in the world," he thought to himself, still smiling while typing.