Let Me Be

1: Open Wide

Burnt almonds. The rancid stench hummed around in my nose in the most offensive way, lingering and forcing my eyes open.

Glancing around the stark white room, I searched for the cause of the smell. The bright lights reflected off of the clean, white walls and it took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust, only to see the large machines and their systems projecting lines and numbers on several screens.

With the presence of the intricate systems and surgical equipment, the familiarity of the medical facility settled in.

But why was I here?

The thick mattress at my back kept me angled at forty-five degrees and allowed me to take in my setting while also giving false hope that I only had to take a step forward to freedom. That step was impossible.

Glancing down over my pale body, I tried to comprehend what prevented me from simply leaving. A panic surged through me when my eyes met the wide bands fastened across my hips and torso that held me in place.

"What's going on?" My voice came out groggy and weak. It was only then I craved liquid refreshment.

Neon green lines danced on the large monitor before me, and a robotic voice emitted from the machine's speaker. "Please stay calm. Your doctor has been notified of your restlessness and will be in to assist you shortly."

Instinct urged me to locate the door, which must've been out of my line of vision. And as I scanned the room, my impatience and panic transformed into full-on fear. I wanted out.

"Get me out of this thing!" I groaned and grunted against the unwanted embrace of the thick bands. The lines on the monitor displayed increasing peaks and valleys as I rocked and maneuvered. Its beeps rang in my ears before it instructed me to, "Please relax. Your doctor will be in shortly."

"Anyone?" I called out, ignoring the computer. "I want out. Get me out of here!"

I only paused when the click of the door opening and closing sounded from behind me. "Jovial?" A male voice questioned.

"Yes." He knew my name. Had the doctor finally arrived? "I want out of here."

The man appeared from behind with an unusual elegance, stepping before me like a performer stepping out from behind a curtain onto a stage. "It's good to see you all lively and such. How are you feeling? Do you know where you are?"

"Where's my mom?" was the only thing I needed to know. Something told me she would have all the answers.

"Your mother is here." He blinked slowly as he spoke, conveying a calm approach. "In fact, she is anxious to see you as soon as you are ready."

"I'm ready." I nodded before the words fully left my lips. "I want to see her now."

"Shortly." His smile sent a shudder down my spine as he pressed a small button on the frames of his glasses, activating a pinprick of light in the center of the frames, and shining it directly in my eyes as he visually examined them. "Do you know where you are?"

Again, with that question. I sneered, not willing to hide my unease. "I'm at a hospital." The more I thought about it the more confusing it became. "I am in a hospital, right? But why? What happened?"

"You have completed the lengthy process of your treatment." He angled his head to visually examine my nasal passages. "You look well, and your vitals are green, but how are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling..." I stared into his dark, round eyes and replayed his words in my head. "Treatment?"

By the way his nose twitched he wasn't satisfied with my answer. His cold fingers immediately went to my wrist, assessing. "Are you having difficulty remembering the program? It is normal if you are."

I searched my memory, seeing a small man sitting behind a large desk, pointing a bony finger my way. His scowl said more than his words. "I hereby order you, Jovial Spencer, to undergo a year of treatment in Deep Sleep."

"I remember." I nodded. A sense of elation briefly erased my unease as the memory came to me. Similar to getting the score of an exam to see I've miraculously aced it.

"What do you remember exactly?" He waited, observing me from the top of my dark curly hair to my French tip toes. His curiously unwrinkled and unsullied white lab coat stole my attention.

"Have I been under for an entire year?" I studied his inquisitive stare, anticipating his confirmation.

He nodded. "Indeed."

I imagined being asleep for twelve months and what changes may have occurred during that time, but the more I tried to focus on those things the more my curiosity dissipated. "It worked right?"

"That is left to be determined, but the surgery was successful." He went to one of the monitors and pressed on screen buttons. "Although there are several symptoms I hope to avoid. One being memory loss. However, a bit of memory issues this soon upon awakening is to be expected."

My nose tickled, yet I couldn't satisfy the itch with my arms confined at my sides. "Can I leave?"

"Let me be clear, you are not a prisoner." He continued to type and select info and notes through the system. "However, it is imperative that you are recovering as expected. So, please, try to be patient. Yes?"

The tickle in my nostrils grew more unbearable as seconds went by. I sniffed to alleviate the itch, but again the smokiness of charred peanut husks lingered. "What's that smell?"

"A smell, you say?" He finally turned and the pinprick of light emitted from the frame of his glasses, taking attention from his dark eyes. He was before me in seconds, breaching the invisible barriers of my personal space. "Open up, let me take a look."

Before I could fully comprehend his request, two fingers slipped past my lips and into my mouth. "Open wide," he ordered. I dry heaved when he used most of his fingers to pry my jaw open, then crooked his head and peered inside. I twisted and turned away, determined to distance myself from his probing. "Hold still now," he demanded, struggling to keep my head centered.

The scowl on his face mimicked the one from the judge in my memory, and although they were different people, their annoyance and impatience were similar.

Or was that a smile?

Instinctively, my tongue pushed at his ungloved fingers and the flavor of unwashed coins on my taste buds engaged my gag reflexes.

"Ah, I see." The pads of his fingers grazed the roof of my mouth. "The stitch in your palate has come undone."

He pressed the tissue and a bolt of pain shot through me as if that point was connected to every sensitive nerve webbed throughout my being. My entire body seized and remained rigid as I convulsed against the confines of the bed.

Screams of agony echoed throughout the room and blended with the beeps and sirens of the monitors.

Hot viscous liquid dripped down my chin and soaked the front of my gown with its warmth, and although my eyelids twitched involuntarily, glimpses of the doctor holding his wrist in one hand and shrieking in pain were communicated. Dark, contrasting red soiled his once pristine lab coat. It was then that the pain and fear surging through me was interrupted by a fleeting thought.

What a shame.

~~~

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