The Wintess Awakens-Chapter 7
I woke out of the deep slumber that time had pushed me into, only to gasp for life.
“Doctor, doctor!” screamed a voice around me, as I continued to fight against an invisible force that was pulling me away from this world. Why had it not pulled me away earlier was all that rang in my mind like the church bells.
“What’s the matter?” rushed in another voice, which like the first one was totally blurred for me, as my sight had been reduced to a blur, and life revealed its true opaque side to me.
“He’s hyperventilating.”
“Quick, put him on oxygen!”
Suddenly, a pair of hands pulled up my head and made me wear a mask; and I could breathe again. The mist in my eyes began to clear up, and I could now see an army of white surrounding me, all looking at me as if I was a curio in an antiques shop.
“Can you hear us?” asked a woman, apparently a nurse, as I followed her voice towards her face.
I motioned towards her that I could, but somehow I did not have the voice in my mind being followed up by the voice in my throat.
“I think,” said a man in a long white coat, “that he cannot speak right now. Maybe, he is too weak to do so.”
Everybody nodded in assent, while I tried to sort out my mind, and attempted to figure out my presence in this ward.
“Thank God someone brought him here on time, else he would not have survived.”
“Survived? Look at him! He was in coma for such a long time. You call such a thing a miracle.”
“Never use that word,” a strict rejoinder flew in from somewhere, “We are doctors, not evangelists; it does not suit our profession.”
Utter sadness filled my mind. I had not died that night; in fact, the killer had perhaps saved me from the fate that I had so desperately wanted that night. Damn his balls!
“Do you want to say anything? You could write it out,” came a voice from somewhere, and I saw a woman not dressed in white step out towards me, while the others dispersed.
“Hi, my name is Sam Young. I am a reporter for the Daily Star. I came here to talk to you about something really important.”
I saw this woman. Expectation on the verge of desperation filled her eyes, as if she had pinned all her hopes on something that only I could give. But what could I give her, save for my misery and my anger?
“Do you recognize this woman?” She had raised her hand, which had held a photograph in it, and pointed towards it with her other hand.
I took a look at the photograph, only to be stunned.
It was her, no doubt.
Sam had figured out that I recognized the face. Maybe, it was from the way my eyes must have widened, or the way my face must have contorted, for she latched onto the moment.
“So, were you her stalker?”
I looked at her with condescension, for she had dared to reduce the primal human instinct that we humans try to shamefully hide to a criminal act. She quickly sensed it, for she changed her question to another.
“Do you know that she was murdered the same night you were found half dead?”
How could I not know it? I was there, when the entire episode had happened, and yet, she asked me such stupid questions. Dumbass that all reporters are, she too continued the act.
“And do you know what had happened that night?”
I nodded my head in approval. That night would always remain etched onto my mind.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, “We actually have a witness. I need to tell Maher about this.”
Saying so, she ran out of the room, leaving me behind on the ventilator to watch her go out, and pondered over what the fuss was all about.
Within some time (I do not know how much time elapsed, for there were no indicators of the same around me), an army of policemen had run in along with this Sam, with a man growling loudly at his men.
“Great! You bastards could not do what a tit of a reporter managed to achieve in such a short while. Fuck your asses! We had a witness all along, and none of you tried to figure out the people of the neighbourhood properly? What am I supposed to do with you motherfuckers, huh?”
They all looked mute, while Sam spoke to this man, “Maher, you can do that later. Do what is important first. Talk to the doctor to see when he can start speaking again, or whether he can communicate with us in any other way.”
Maher then turned around towards me, and looked at me with a bit of a doubt. But soon, he cleared his face, and then asked me,
“So, can you tell us anything about that night?”
“Doctor, doctor!” screamed a voice around me, as I continued to fight against an invisible force that was pulling me away from this world. Why had it not pulled me away earlier was all that rang in my mind like the church bells.
“What’s the matter?” rushed in another voice, which like the first one was totally blurred for me, as my sight had been reduced to a blur, and life revealed its true opaque side to me.
“He’s hyperventilating.”
“Quick, put him on oxygen!”
Suddenly, a pair of hands pulled up my head and made me wear a mask; and I could breathe again. The mist in my eyes began to clear up, and I could now see an army of white surrounding me, all looking at me as if I was a curio in an antiques shop.
“Can you hear us?” asked a woman, apparently a nurse, as I followed her voice towards her face.
I motioned towards her that I could, but somehow I did not have the voice in my mind being followed up by the voice in my throat.
“I think,” said a man in a long white coat, “that he cannot speak right now. Maybe, he is too weak to do so.”
Everybody nodded in assent, while I tried to sort out my mind, and attempted to figure out my presence in this ward.
“Thank God someone brought him here on time, else he would not have survived.”
“Survived? Look at him! He was in coma for such a long time. You call such a thing a miracle.”
“Never use that word,” a strict rejoinder flew in from somewhere, “We are doctors, not evangelists; it does not suit our profession.”
Utter sadness filled my mind. I had not died that night; in fact, the killer had perhaps saved me from the fate that I had so desperately wanted that night. Damn his balls!
“Do you want to say anything? You could write it out,” came a voice from somewhere, and I saw a woman not dressed in white step out towards me, while the others dispersed.
“Hi, my name is Sam Young. I am a reporter for the Daily Star. I came here to talk to you about something really important.”
I saw this woman. Expectation on the verge of desperation filled her eyes, as if she had pinned all her hopes on something that only I could give. But what could I give her, save for my misery and my anger?
“Do you recognize this woman?” She had raised her hand, which had held a photograph in it, and pointed towards it with her other hand.
I took a look at the photograph, only to be stunned.
It was her, no doubt.
Sam had figured out that I recognized the face. Maybe, it was from the way my eyes must have widened, or the way my face must have contorted, for she latched onto the moment.
“So, were you her stalker?”
I looked at her with condescension, for she had dared to reduce the primal human instinct that we humans try to shamefully hide to a criminal act. She quickly sensed it, for she changed her question to another.
“Do you know that she was murdered the same night you were found half dead?”
How could I not know it? I was there, when the entire episode had happened, and yet, she asked me such stupid questions. Dumbass that all reporters are, she too continued the act.
“And do you know what had happened that night?”
I nodded my head in approval. That night would always remain etched onto my mind.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, “We actually have a witness. I need to tell Maher about this.”
Saying so, she ran out of the room, leaving me behind on the ventilator to watch her go out, and pondered over what the fuss was all about.
Within some time (I do not know how much time elapsed, for there were no indicators of the same around me), an army of policemen had run in along with this Sam, with a man growling loudly at his men.
“Great! You bastards could not do what a tit of a reporter managed to achieve in such a short while. Fuck your asses! We had a witness all along, and none of you tried to figure out the people of the neighbourhood properly? What am I supposed to do with you motherfuckers, huh?”
They all looked mute, while Sam spoke to this man, “Maher, you can do that later. Do what is important first. Talk to the doctor to see when he can start speaking again, or whether he can communicate with us in any other way.”
Maher then turned around towards me, and looked at me with a bit of a doubt. But soon, he cleared his face, and then asked me,
“So, can you tell us anything about that night?”
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