3:06p.m.

The sensation of cool air fills my lungs as the humming of an air-conditioner hovers above my head.

It’s peaceful.

My eyes feel puffy as if I have been crying for a long time.

I don’t recall crying, did I have a bad dream?

It feels as if I’m waking from a deep lifeless sleep. My head aches as I try to get a hold of my senses. The brightness of the light penetrates through my eyelids forcing me to wake up and watch where I have woken up. To my surprise I’m introduced to white colored walls; a door near a corner away from me with a small squared glassed window; open light-blue curtains surround my bed; and in me a needle connected to an IV bag.

Why am I in the hospital?

The air smells stiff with plastic. My eye gazes down near my nose; I’m wearing some kind of breather attached to a machine next to me. On top of that, there are wires on my body connected to a heart monitor beeping my heart’s condition.

“What happened?!”

Abruptly, the door in the far corner bashes and I immediately act like I’m asleep.

ɱ “Look, he’s still unconscious.” ɱ

ʑ “I know I heard the little shit shout!” ʑ

It sounds like two grown men; one doesn’t sound too happy to hear me. I continue my little ruse.

ɱ “He was probably having another nightmare. After all, he lost an arm and-” ɱ

An arm? I lost an arm?! When did I lose an arm?! I need to confer this as they cannot be talking about me!

I carefully twitch all my ten fingers but only feel the ones on my right hand. I try my left hand again, there’s no sensation.

ʑ “No, no. Didn’t you see how he ripped it off his own damn body? Who the hell does that?!” ʑ

The heart monitor begins to go insane as I start to believe these men.

ʑ “Holy shit! He must really be having a nightmare, should we call one of the doctors?!” ʑ

I weasel a peek at my left arm while hovering it to my line of sight.

ɱ “After what he’s gone through, I’m not-” ɱ

It’s not there!

I try to jump off the bed but I can’t feel anything below my waist.

“My arm! Where’s my arm?!”

ɱ “Hold him down! Calm down, kid! Everything is okay now!” ɱ

“What happened to my legs and my arm?! Who are you?!!!”

I trash from one side of the bed to the other. I want to wake up!

This is just a bad dream!

My head doesn’t stop pulsing as the sensation of vomiting feels my throat.

ɱ “It’s okay, you’re safe now. You were in an accident.” ɱ

“An accident?”

The stranger trying to hold me down stops struggling as I settle down to listen to this “accident”. He looks at the other adult and as if a flashbulb light on top of him; he replies-

ʑ “Yeah, yeah. You were in a terrible accident.” ʑ

“This isn’t a dreaming?”

ɱ “No, welcome to the real world, We were driving behind the person whom ran you over. Do you remember jogging this morning?” ɱ

The heart monitor translating my heart descends but still keeps an irregular pace.

I do go jogging every morning, to beat the sun.

ɱ “Before we continue, do you remember anything else?” ɱ

“I… I don’t remember anything. I do go jogging…. I just don’t remember waking up until right now. What time is it?”

ʑ “It’s the afternoon.” ʑ

“What… what happened after?!”

ɱ “How can I put this? You-” ɱ

ʑ “You’d tried to cross the street and forgot to look both ways, idiot. That’s when the car in front of us rammed you! You went flying while your arm was caught by the car’s windshield and ripped it right off! It was insane!” ʑ

“Oh god, I’m such an idiot! They always tell us to look both ways before crossing. Why didn’t I look both ways? It’s not like me. What was I thinking?”

I try to cover my shame as I sob for being such a dimwit and notice my vision is a little odd. I’m too scared to ask, so I direct my attention to the next thing on my mind.

“Why can’t I move my legs?”

Both men look at each other aghast.

ɱ “I don’t know want to be the bearer of bad news, but-” ɱ

ʑ “You’re a paraplegic. Dude and you even lost your right eye too! A shard of the windshield blasted through your head! It was gruesome!” ʑ

ɱ “Will you tone it down, Zack? He just went through hell and you’re spouting things like it’s a joke! I’m sorry, son.” ɱ

Zack gasps as if offended by his friend’s criticism. It takes him a moment to realize what he had said and promptly changes his tone of voice as if he had lost a loved one.

ʑ “I’m sorry, Edison. Life tends to hit you when you least expect it, even the young.” ʑ

ɱ “The doctors did everything they could.” ɱ

ʑ “Yeah, look at the bright side; you’re not dead.” ʑ

My right hand trembles as it slowly makes its way to my right eye; there’s only a rough patch.

There’s the proof.

I wipe the tears from my only eye as they keep me from seeing as I unconsciously look to my left arm.

I’m missing my hand and entire forearm.

There’s only bandages and what feels like stitches. My head keeps throbbing as I wail from the truth.

ɱ “If there’s anything you need, please call us. We will be outside this door. We’ll give you some time to recover.” ɱ

Zack leans onto his buddy and whispers...

ʑ “Michael, we’re supposed-” ʑ

This time it’s Michael who interrupts Zack like an upset loving mother scolding their child without trying to grab any attention in a public area.

ɱ “I said, we will give him some time to recover. Now, come on.” ɱ

Zack spaces out and soon catches on to Michael’s scheme. Zack faces me and deliberately smiles.

ʑ “We will be outside, if you need anything.” ʑ

As they see themselves out, I remember something important-

“My parents! Do my parents know I’m here?!”

They both glance one another, waiting for the other to elaborate an exceptional excuse.

ʑ “Yes, that’s why we’re leaving. We’re going to contact them; you’re better now!” ʑ

ɱ “Yeah, they already know you’re here and we told them we would call them when they could see you and you’re awake now!” ɱ

ʑ “Shut up-” ʑ

“Thank you. I wouldn’t want them to worry about me. By the way, please don’t tell them I was ran over because of me, please. If they found out, I will be grounded for life!”

ʑ “Sure, kid.” ʑ

ɱ “For now, try and get some rest.” ɱ

Michael gently shuts the door behind him, leaving me only with my intruding thoughts.

What now? I can’t walk, I’ll have to reteach myself to write, and I’m missing an eye. I’m hideous!

I shut my eye while whimpering and realize I shouldn’t be so down.

There are people who live this way; most importantly: I’m still alive. It could have been worse. I can still see. I have one more arm….

ʑ “Now what? He’s awake!” ʑ

It’s Zack and Michael muttering from the other side.

ʑ “I thought he wasn’t supposed to wake up! What if he remembers?!” ʑ

ɱ “Keep your voice down, do you want him to hear you? ɱ

Zack pops his head through the small window on the door and examines I’m just resting with my eye close.

ʑ “I doubt the little shit can even hear from here; he probably lost his hearing too!” ʑ

ɱ “Whatever. Right now, we need to contact our deacon and fast.” ɱ

ʑ “Sure. If you want, I’ll stay on guard duty.” ʑ

ɱ “Then it’s settle. I’ll be on my way now. Make sure Edison doesn’t…” ɱ

That’s the second time they mention my name. I don’t remember giving anyone my name and a deacon?

I glance at my left arm and my legs.

I’m a cripple… Stop thinking that, there’s nothing else you can do. Just shut your eye and let your body and mind heal. Your life can’t get any worse.

As I try to control my invasive thoughts a reminiscing sensation appears on my chest, something- no, someone heavy.

I’m finally up!

An icy chill runs down my maim spain, my good eye almost pops out of its socket, and my neurons flare at once activating recent memories.

“IT’S YOU!”