Chapter Four: A Mother’s Love
I didn’t know where I was or how
long I had been there. There was a bright light beyond my eyelids, but that
wasn’t often. Sometimes there would be voices, but nothing they said was
comprehensible. Not to me, at least, and definitely not in my current state.
At some point during a period of
receding blackness, I thought to move my arm, convincing myself it was to prove
I was still alive to the voices. My arm was too heavy, though. No matter how I
tried to shift and lever my weight, I couldn’t. I came out of the blackness
again later and realized the exertion had sent me back; I noted not to try that
again.
I didn’t seem able to just wake up,
and that terrified me. Who knew how long I had been here, or where I even was. The
voices obviously, but they were just voices and I could have been
hallucinating.
Then I finally started coming out
of the haziness. The blur of voices surrounding me started making sense and the
bright light became more distinct. I opened my eyes to a white room, filled
with dark figures and the discussion of shots. Someone was saying I needed
another one until they found out more about me. Another person argued they’d
never know if they kept knocking me out. A third party voted in favor of
another shot and performing more tests. What tests had I already been subjected
to?
The figure who had suggested
another shot moved toward me, a syringe glinting in the bright light.
Without thinking about the
consequences, I pulled the air into a boulder shape and rammed it into the
person, the syringe twinkling before it shattered somewhere far off. The
tinkling sound of glass scattering was the last thing I remembered before the
blackness closed in once more.
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