Revelation

I feel weaker than ever. 

I feel disoriented and delirious.

Must be from losing all that blood.  I still have no idea how long I was down there before they finally brought me here.  

That woman still won’t leave me alone, and she still won’t answer any of my questions-says I need to rest.  She is beyond exasperating.

When I asked her how long I was asleep, she finally told me that I drifted off somewhere around noon yesterday.  I don’t think “drifting off” is the correct way to describe my sleep.  More like “slapped unconscious”.  

When she bent over to check my pulse, I managed to steal a glance at her clipboard.  Today is the 26th of October.   But I know for a fact that they brought me in here on the 18th, it says so on my wristband:  “Date of admittance: October 18, 2014”.  

According to her, I slept from yesterday, the 18th, until today, the 19th.  But according to her official documentation, it’s now the 26th.  I was out for eight days!  That’s not normal.  Something is terribly wrong.  I think that that woman put something in the fluids that are being fed into my body.  I need to know why.  I need to get out of here.

I also managed to gather one other vital piece of information from her clipboard.  “Arthur Mccarty”.  That’s my name.   I now know who I am.

Rescue?

My leg still aches.  If I move at all, there is a searing pain that shoots up through my entire body.  It’s more of a dull ache at this point, probably because of the stitches.  Yes, stitches, and no, I didn’t give them to myself.  When I finally woke up this morning, I was in a very different place.  I suppose different is good in this case.  Although anything is better than that hell-hole I was stuck in.  There seems to be something strangely familiar about this place, but I can't explain why.  It's weird.  I’m in a small room, propped up in an elevated bed with my right leg suspended by some wires.  There is a monitor to my right depicting a small, electronic heart that keeps making a very annoying beeping sound, and there are dozens of wires and hoses hooked up to my body with weird colored fluids running through them.  There’s also a woman in white clothes that keeps running in and out of the room, always poking and prodding me and asking incessant questions.  I have to write quickly and shove the paper and pen under the sheets when she walks in.  She already took away the other piece of paper I had started writing on.  Apparently I’m supposed to be resting, or something like that, but I can’t have peace of mind until I write all this down.  I don’t want to forget a single detail.  Fortunately, there was a whole pad lying on the table next to my bed.  I really wish she’d just leave me in peace.  I still have absolutely no idea who I am or how in the world I got here–Op, here she comes again.     

Desperation

I’m laying here on the cold, hard floor.  The ground is sucking any warmth straight out of my body.  I’m writing this down, trying to do anything to keep my mind off of this bleak situation.  I reached down to readjust myself, just trying to find a comfortable position.  Well, more comfortable anyways.  The rough texture of the cement cuts into my knees and hands as I try to scoot myself across the floor.  A shooting pain races up my leg, and my hand is submerged in something warm and sticky.  I pull my hand up close to my face and try to see what it is.  Straining to see in this dim light, I realize it’s blood.  My own blood.  I know this because it’s seeping through my shorts and spilling onto the floor.  No, it’s not cut from the cement.  There is a huge gash in my thigh.  I have no idea where it came from, but the blood is spurting out in convulsing spasms.  My shorts are soaked.  Ok, this is really bad.  (Pardon the blood smudges, I’m trying to write and stop the bleeding at the same time)  The only light penetrating this room is coming from a window that’s near the ceiling on the far wall across the room.  It’s about thirty feet from where I’m laying.  When I say window, I really mean more like a vent to let moisture out.  There’s no way I could fit through it, even if I could reach it.  My right leg is completely numb.  I can’t feel it.  I may have a severed nerve or tendon.  I’m really starting to feel light-headed.  Thers blod everywere.  I maey hav a sverde tendon.  The windowe if only i can raech the window.  i have to reach the windwo

hlp. plaes halpe               

   

Amnesia? I Can't Remember

I have no idea where I am.  

I have no idea who I am.  

The only thing I can tell you is that my head is throbbing, and I feel absolutely paralyzed with fear.  I can't explain why.  Waking up in a strange room all alone in almost complete darkness will do that to you.  I have decided to write down every conversation, every thought, every scrap of information I can gather until I know who I am.  I found this pad of paper on the stand beside my bed, and I dug this pen from my sweater.  They will get me started on this long and painful journey as I try to relive my past.  Somehow it was stolen from me.  I can't explain how, I can’t explain why, but I intend to find out.  As of right now, everything is gone.  I have no past, I am no one.  I don't know what's more terrifying, the known  or the unknown.   For now, all I can be certain of is that everything is unknown and that it terrifies me.