Page 8 of Heart of a Killer

“Same as I do every day, just slightly more annoyed.”

“Why is that?”

“I don’t know, Doctor, why don’t you tell me? None of your repetitive questions have worked so far. It always takes me back to what you remember first, which never changes. My answer is always the same, my name and the pictures from my computer.” My anger boils over as I return to that day at the hospital.

“Leeelaaan...”

“Leelan...”

The voice calls me like a whisper in the dark. I’m swimming in the black abyss of peace, and I don’t want to leave. I’m wrapped in pure affection, like being held by your mom when you are tiny, and she is playing with your hair before all the corruption and trauma taints it. Her touch tingles my scalp, and I can’t move. If I move or open my eyes, I know that sensation will disappear.

“Leland!”

The voice is shouting now. I want it to stop. The good feeling is dwindling and is quickly replaced with an intense burning and sharp needles in my back. My throat is tight, like I’m choking and breathing through a straw. Struggling to pull my eyes open, I sense that sleep is coating them. I can see light between my lashes, which are melded together. In an attempt to remove the crust from them, I lift my hand, and a loud clunk rattles my arm. I tug on it again, but it doesn’t budge, just more sharp ringing of metal sounds. I scream in frustration, but it comes out muffled, and the pressure in my throat hurts.

“Leland, calm down. You’re all right. You’re in the hospital. Try to relax, okay. We are trying to get this tube out of your throat. I just need you to follow a few commands for me before we can do that.”

Nodding is the only response I can physically give them; I attempt to open my eyes again, but I can’t. The person must finally notice because I feel something warm and wet over my face.

“Here, this should help.” The voice is kind, gentle, almost caring. I ease my eyes open, and the bright light assaults me, and I immediately close them. I try again, a few more times, blinking until I can adjust to the harsh fluorescents.

I’m in what looks like a hospital. I’ve never been in one before, but this is what the pictures would show me on the computer.

My computer!

I remember my computer, but it’s like a hazy dream, and I can’t remember anything around it. The voice steps in front of my line of sight. She’s cute with light blond hair and scrubs that fit her figure. She is wearing white from head to toe, and I think if it weren’t for the yellowish walls and sanitary bleach smell, I would have thought she was an angel.

She ruins my train of thought about angels when she talks. “Good. Now I’m going to ask you to do a few movements before we can remove this breathing tube.”

I nod in response. I’m ready to get this shit out of my throat.

“Lift your head off the pillow.”

When I do, she proceeds to the following command and the next until I pass her test.

She claps her hands together as if this is a proud moment. “You’re ready. I’ll go let the doctor know.”

My thoughts drift off as I lie there waiting for the next thing to happen. Looking out the window, I see it’s daytime, but there’s a dreadful blue-gray tint to the world. The trees are leafless and skeletal.

What happened to me? Why can’t I remember anything?

The woman bounces back into the room with a taller man in a white coat in tow.

“Ahh, I hear you’re ready to get this tube out,” the man in white bellows in a deep baritone, nothing like the sweet angelic sound of the woman’s voice.

I nod.

He seems pleased by this. “Okay, Angela, let’s do this.” He turns to her with a look on his face I can’t decipher. Oddly, even her name is angelic.

He has a syringe in his hand. What is he going to do with that? I’m sure my eyes give my question away, or maybe my increase in breathing tipped him off because he explains what he is doing.

“I’m going to remove the air from your cuff so that the tube will come out easier,” he says as he performs the task he is describing. “Okay, done with that. Now I’m going to pull it out, and it will make you cough.” He grabs the tube. “Prepare yourself.”

I feel it as it comes up through my throat. It’s painful. He was right about the coughing. I can’t stop once the tube is out, and it hurts worse than it did when it was in. My back, chest, and throat are throbbing and burning. Coughing so hard, I almost throw up. The man tells Angela to get some pain medication, and she leaves the room before he even finishes his sentence.

“Now, I know you have been through a lot, but do you know why you are here?”

I try to say, “no,” but it only comes out as a hoarse whisper. I’m not even sure if he heard me, but he proceeds to tell me anyway.

---