Eyes Closed

Jason Wong

Period 5

Eyes Closed

I didn’t know what to do when I saw it, a towering shadow escorting some poor, scrawny guy into a back alley.  I initially didn’t want to go--why should I risk my life for someone else?  It would be so easy to just walk away.  Besides, it was getting dark anyways.  Whatever happens to him is of no consequence to me. As I turned the other way, the guilt of letting someone die wasn't something I wanted to live with.   I’m guessing it was the altruistic instincts of my inner self, but by the time I realized it, I had my arm around the shadow’s neck like a vice. I couldn’t see his face but I could see his eyes, which emanated a kind of desperation.  I felt sorry for him; he was probably …

I caught a quick glance of a blur in my periphery, but before I could react, a dull shock echoed throughout my body as twelve inches of ferocious steel inundated my chest again, again, and again; a bombardment of surges passed through my gut as my shirt clung to a warmth that was smeared on my defaced frame.  In my jumbled state, a final blow to my back and neck smudged my vision and in my disfigured state, the shadow and the victim blended into the darker smudge behind them.  The only tangible thing in my fleeting world was the cold of the ground, the cold of the wall behind me, and the warmth of my blood as it pumped out of the dabbed incisions.

Tremoring, I checked my watch, which released another blunt prod. It wasn’t worth it anyway; the hands were painted over with a corporeal claret.  I checked my surroundings; still a blur.  My head had gotten heavier, but I guess that was from the lack of anything left in the rest of my body.  The pool of blood rippled when I moved my head, where I caught myself following it until it reached the edge.  The edge, however, was hard to find; the pool dragged on from the clearness next to me to the ruby stain that seemed to blend with the buildings.

I could no longer tell what was up or down.  I had lost a lot of blood; my lips were parched, and a thick froth had begun collecting about the corners.  My throat had become sandpaper, which brought about a different torture.  This one wasn’t blunt as it was rough -- rough enough to slowly file down what was left of my fading vitality.  All I could do was lay there; there really weren’t many possibilities.  The bastard got my calves and side, probably something important; I wouldn’t have known.  Honestly, I don’t think I cared that much anymore.  Dying is so weird.  Getting stabbed isn’t like how Hollywood depicts it; you don’t just drop.  It’s a slow, drawn out descent into inner chaos characterized by sporadic writhing in a puddle of what used to be me.  I was cold.

I wanted to see the sky just one more time, but all I got was a darker blotch.  It started getting blacker.  I looked back down and could no longer see the puddle I was sitting in.  My body began to sway, and before my face kissed the ruby-lipped ground, I was out.

Stirring in and out of consciousness, all I remember are the lights.  No light, blue and red lights, then a total inundation of white.

By the time I woke up, it was morning.  Nothing seemed different about it except for the fact that I had almost died.  The door opened, and a nurse came in with a smile on her face, and we exchanged pleasantries, which was difficult to do, seeing as it was challenging to turn my neck to look at her.  I knew she was just here to check up on me; I just wanted her to get it over with.

She started by asking me, “Do you feel any pain?”

“That’s a bit of hard question to answer.”

“Sir, if you can’t answer now, that’s fine, but I need to know how much pain you’re in.”

“You know, for some reason, when I’m just sitting still, just like how I am now, I don’t feel any.  But when I make any movement …”  A throaty, fricative groan escaped my mouth as I demonstrated to the nurse the bluntly acidic result of lifting my arm a centimeter from my bed.  “Yeah, it hurts.”

“I’ll get you something to help numb that pain.  Be right back.”

“No…no…sigh…I deserve this.  I mean, how stupid was I to go in unarmed against a knife wielding mugger.  This is punishment for my actions.”

Perplexed, the nurse asked,“Why should you be punished for helping someone?”

“I don’t know, it would have been easier on me.”

“No, no, you did the right thing…”

“But not for me.  I guess it’s like the pain I’m feeling right now; if I don’t move, I can’t feel pain.  If I do, I get stabbed with knives.  My life would be less painful if I hadn’t gone in just to help some stranger.”

“Well, he wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

“Really, him being here is not my problem.”

“You know what, you’ve been through a lot today, and I’m sure you have a lot on your mind.  Let me get you that morphine, and I’ll leave you alone.  If you need anything else, just ring that buzzer.”

My mind was vacant; all my thoughts had condensed into an overbearing rock that weighed my head down.  At the same time, however, my eyes were ever drawn to the droning, coruscating tube lamps.  It hurt after staring for a few minutes.  I need to ignore my eyes.