She knew she was dreaming, but it was so hard to wake up. Lightning flashed around her, rain pelting down, the sky a swirling purple montage of clouds and stars. She was drowning, the black rippling water around her smacking her eyeballs and pouring into her throat. Coughing up water only resulted in the cold liquid being sucked deeper into her body. How much water could one hold without exploding? Yet, when she tried to move her arms and legs to swim to the surface, they wouldn’t work no matter how she flailed. Dreaming or awake, she had to get to the surface before she drowned, but something was dragging her down.
There was something around her neck, a cord, a necklace, a slithering tangle of seaweed, wrapping tighter.
Down she sank.
And up again, bobbing, the lightning flashing in rhythm.
Down again, pressure from the dark swirling hole.
The water was well over her head, yet her arms and legs remained detached from her ability to move them, waving upwards as they drifted like errant waterlilies.
She looked down, feverishly flashing to an amusement park ride; taller, faster than The Drop Zone or any other thrill ride. It creaked and cranked, the cart she was suddenly in chugging higher and higher, chains clanking, gears groaning. How could the ride be running while in such a storm? The tower swayed in the high winds. The cart tilted so that she was facing down towards the earth. Was she in a cage? The ground was so far. So far down. What even was down there? Was that the dark waters of the lake? She hoped she was strapped in tightly, her arms and legs still useless as the cart paused.
Lightning flashed. Thunder boomed.
The cart released.
Lenore hurtled in free fall, disengaged from the cart, flipped across the turbulent waters of the lake, and ended up…
Lenore burst awake. She gasped for breath. The tube had been removed; her throat and lungs were raw with pain. Her whole body was on fire. But she realized she wasn’t tied down anymore as she reached for her neck. She stroked it, soothing herself though the pain was on the inside.
Where am I? She looked around the room. Ah, yes. The Hospital.
The hospital with pale walls and beige blinds. Colorful patchwork curtains somewhat brightened the room, hanging between beds as makeshift walls that opened and shut. The patchwork design was splotchy and garish as if made for a clown act.
Looks like blood. Clowns always gotta be creepy.
She swung her legs around the side of the bed. So far, so good! She couldn’t even see marks where the ties had been. She stretched and enjoyed feeling her arms and legs cracking in freedom. She was fine. Maybe it was time to get home. Her bare feet touched the tile floor. A bit chilly, but that was okay. She was used to being chilly, like ice cream.
The door was open, and the halls were dark. It was quiet except for the humming and beeping and sucking of various machines keeping humans alive. She walked past tented rooms, dim lights, taped-off rooms, whirring fans, catching glimpses of the whithered faces of the dying as they stared from their beds.
At last, she reached a room at the end of the hall.
This is the place.
What place?
She entered a room where a young woman lay on her stomach, her head buried in her arms as she attempted to sleep. Her legs from the waist down were tangled in the thin white hospital sheets. Long black hair snaked around the sleeping woman’s arms, tentacles adorning her, framing the opened gap in the gown, the ties not even closed.
Sensations and visions rushed through Lenore in mere seconds. A surge of memory. A touch of nostalgia. Loss. Hope.
My angel.
Lenore walked closer to the bed. The woman continued to sleep, unaware. Lenore stared at the girl’s back, wrapped in bandages and gauze. Blood seeped through, creating Rorshak patchworks that mimicked the hideous curtains that haunted all the rooms of the hospital. Lenore stuck her hand out before she could stop herself and reached for the woman. Her hand hovered over the woman’s back for a moment. Would touching her hurt her? Lenore released her hand and stroked the woman’s back.
Who stole your wings, beautiful angel?
Lenore woke to the bright lights and endless noises of the hospital. Rattling carts, coughing, talking, talking, talking, music from three different rooms…Lenore raised her hands, or at least tried to. They were tied down.
“Hey,” she called out. At least the tubes were gone from her throat. “Hey, Stella.” The call button was propped within reach of her right hand, and she pressed it repeatedly. At last, a middle-aged man and a young man appeared in nurse gear.
“Yes, what is it?” The man labeled Ned asked as he checked Lenore’s eyes.
“Why am I all tied up?”
Ned looked at the man labeled Matt as if to concur.
“You have a lot of injuries that need to heal, and you seem to have…nightmares, so we felt it was safer for you to not have your hands scratching yourself.”
Ned lifted Lenore’s arm as best he could with the restraint, revealing that along the healing bruises were fresh scratches.
“I don’t remember,” Lenore whispered.
“Don’t worry. Many patients who have been through traumatic events exhibit unusual behaviour, out of their norm. You’ll settle down. Don’t worry,” Matt said.
Lenore’s mind was swimming with the images of drowning, of flying, of seeing her angel. Urgency washed through her.
“When will you untie me?”