Monday, January 23, 2006

They found me, unconsciousness, lying in a pool of death and regret.

How I got to the hospital, I don't know. All I remember as my vision swam in and out of focus, was the swinging of the intraveneous drip over my face as the world lurched forward at a breakneck speed.

When I came to, the world was a much bleaker place.

The nurse who saw my eyes open had no need to say anything. She had heard what had happened that fateful day.

In silence, she led me, unsteady and tottering as I was, to another ward.

A multitude of life-support machines cast a baleful green glow over the darkened room. The rhythmic hiss of the ventilator and the soft bleep of the heart-rate monitor were the only sounds to punctuate the solemn silence.

The weeping friends and family had long departed, and only her mum was left, slumped in her chair as she slept the sleep of a troubled soul.

The nurse looked at me again, to see if I needed anything else, then left silently, her receding shadow seeming to stretch on forever.

I approached the bed slowly.



"Gunshot wound, massive impact trauma..."

I read the report at the foot of the bed. In my head, I could almost hear the words of the inevitable.

Her condition is but an extension of what is to come.

She is lost, in all but name.

Her sleep will never come to an end.



I put down the report, my hands shaking.

Though she had left my side for so long now, I had never really envisioned her so far away.

And I could do nothing about it.

I could only hope.



Weeks and months fell off the calender as I maintained my daily visits to her bedside.

Of course, I often saw her family there as well. But their empty, accusing stares only made the silence grow deeper.

In their minds, I was the cause of all this.

My physical injuries had long since healed, but the rends on my psyche were ever-fresh.

I sat by her bedside, wanting to hold her hand and wish for her safe return. But I could not bring myself to take her hand, IV drip and all.

I wanted to love her, but dared not to.



In his heart, the boy begins to understand that his actions will eventually consume him, and all that he holds dear.



I can choose to walk away from it all.

But do I deserve to?

Do I leave her to her fate?

Do I let her stand alone, before the gates of the afterlife?



As if waiting for me to end my internal debate, the powers that be dictated my choice.

The sudden high-pitched wail of the machine brought me back to the world of the real.

I spun around. The steady peaks on the monitor had given way to a featureless plateau, and the machine was already screaming its futile warning.

As medical orderlies raced into the room, the world grew ever smaller, ever colder. I hardly saw their frantic efforts to revive her, the defibrillator being held over her chest, hardly saw anything because all I could see was her pale cheeks grow ever colder.

No...



It was then I knew what my decision would be.

Across the room, the shadows began to coalesce into a hooded figure.

I knew the figure. I had met him before. Welcome, old friend.

The figure turned slightly, its hood gazing in my direction.

Welcome.