I have a good life, wife, kids… white picket fence, I have it all.
The smell of freshly cooked bacon wakes me from my peaceful slumber, my son climbs onto the bed, I greet him with open arms.
“… scalpel… “
I dress for the day, a suit pressed and clean, shoes that reflect my success, and a smile like a grand piano.
Upon heading down the stairs I am passed by my daughter, I reach the kitchen my wife places a kiss on my cheek, I return one in kind. The family I’ve always wanted.
“… he’s rupturing.. “
The bacon is sharp and crisp, the eggs as white as snow. My family watch on as I take the first bite, content in my satisfaction.
“… we’re losing him…”
I check my watch, still have time for one last kiss, my wife tastes like a freshly picked fruit, soft and sweet to the touch.
I wave them goodbye as I climb into my car, continuing to do so as I back out of the driveway.
“… clear…”
Two kids.
“… clear…”
A wife.
“… clear…”
I have a good life.
“… time of death… “
I have a good life.
“… doctor!… “
Something’s not right.
“… impossible… “
I feel a pain in my gut, like I’ve been misplaced.
“… forty and rising…”
My car smells like an open wound, above me the sky goes black.
“… fifty… “
The crows gather, mocking my every move.
“… seventy… “
Only darkness now, in the distance a light calls to me, a voice I don’t recognize reassures me, tells me I’m going to be alright.
Detroit, Michigan 1992
The smell of despair wakes me from my trance, the flood gates of my life filter into an unsuspecting vessel.
It was a lie, the kids, the wife… everything, a dream. A dream replaced by a waking nightmare. The room is deceptively white, the window lets in a sea of polluted air… for a second its my wife’s delicate hands touching my skin. But there is no wife, just the stench of the real world.
I hear a voice.
“Welcome back.”
A nurse, ruby red slippers tap along the tiled floor.
“You had us scared for a while there.”
She moves towards me, smiling as she does.
“Doctor said it was a miracle.”
Soft hands stroke my head, I close my eyes and think of home.
“Which is a big thing for a Doctor to admit.”
She walks away, leaving me only a broken promise of things to come.
“I’ll come back and check on you in a little while.”
She leaves me to my false memories.
I sit up, feeling my ribs shout for attention as I do. I use the pain, block out the lies. Making my way to the window is agony, something I’m used to. I can see the parking lot, old rusty cars try to hide behind their sparkling counterparts. The city cries out to me, asks me to continue, asks me to help. I close the window, hearing its scream as I do.
The room closes in on me, trying to squeeze my soul from my body. I head outside, follow the signs for the restroom, need a change of scenery.
I pass the check-in desk, the nurse scolds me with accusing eyes, then turns to face a visitor with fake smiles and puppy dog eyes.
“Can I help you.”
Her spell has been cast.
“Yes, I’m Mr Hinderman, I’m here to see a client… he was in a car accident last night...”
She cuts him short.
“Ah yes, Doctor Johnson said you’d be stopping by… room 204.”
Better the devil you know.
I turn away from Hinderman and his entourage. They pass without a second glance. I hobble to the restroom, once inside I face the mirror. I look like hell, feel it too… only a matter of time before they find my bed empty. Another minute until they find me in here.
I should run and hide, find a place to lie low… but I’m no stranger to these types of people. When the cities an open sewer, all the vermin come out to play.
To be continued…
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