Page 165 of Becoming Us
BEFORE
There was a sharp slap to my cheek. Then another. And another. Voices echoed around me—loud, urgent, and overlapping—but the words blurred. Everything felt too bright. Too loud. Too close.
Shapes hovered above me, shifting shadows framed by sterile white light. I couldn’t focus long enough to count them. Three, maybe four people. None of them familiar.
“He’s still responsive,” someone said. “Skip lavage—charcoal’s safer.”
Suddenly, I was pulled upright. Hands gripped my arms and shoulders, holding me steady as another pair cradled my jaw, forcing it open.
“Breathe out, Noah. You’re going to be okay,” someone said—his voice firm but oddly gentle—just before a thick plastic tube was shoved down my throat.
I gagged instantly, choking on the intrusion. I tried to twist away, fight it off, but their hands were steady. Something thickdragged down my throat and into my stomach. I couldn’t taste it, just felt the pressure, the weight of it, but the smell hit me. Acrid and burnt. Like ash and chemicals and the sour bite of something that didn’t belong.
I coughed and retched, but they didn’t let go. One hand braced my chest while the other kept my face still. I wasn’t in control of my own body anymore. All I could do was let it happen.
My limbs grew heavier. The lights flickered at the edge of my vision.
And then?—
Nothing.
My eyelids felt so fucking heavy. Every part of my body was weighed down, like I’d been dragged underwater and left there. I drifted in and out, barely conscious, until the whoosh of a curtain and the steady, mechanical beeping pulled me closer to waking.
“We’re taking him up,” a woman said.
I blinked into the brightness, fighting the haze as someone tugged at my hand, turning it sideways.
“Finally,” came another voice—this one familiar, but not at all comforting.
I tried to speak, but the moment I opened my mouth, a coughing fit took over.
A nurse—that much I could tell—helped me roll onto my side and kept me there until it passed. “Welcome back. Do you know where you are?”
I shook my head.
“You’re at Harborview Medical Center.”
I’m at the hospital? Why the fuck am I here?
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to sort through the static in my brain. It came back slowly. Then all at once.
The article.
The pills.
Fuck.
“Mhm,” she said, reading my groan like a confession. “It’s all out of your system. You were very lucky, Noah.”
Says you.
“Is he awake?” my mother’s voice filled the room.
I flinched and clamped my eyes tighter.
“He’s coming out of sedation. I’m requesting a wheelchair to bring him up. It might take a little while,” the nurse said, giving my hand a gentle pat.
Then she came into view, and it was nothing short of unexpected. She looked worse than she had at the hospital with Dad. Her makeup was smeared, dark circles etched deep beneath her eyes. The rims were red, raw. Her hair was pulled back, but a few loose strands framed her face, softening her in a way that didn’t feel real.
