So this is my second story. It's a bit long, so you'll have to be patient. :)
Alex
Pitch dark. That’s the only thing I was aware of. I heard voices that seemed far, far away. Or in the back of my head. I didn’t know which one it was for sure.
But they were screaming. Panicking. Hollering. Crying.
The only thing I remember was a flash of bright light, and a loud horn. If it was that.
George
Black. Blinding light. Deafening sound. Black. Black. Black.
Alex
I thought I was dead. But the very next moment, I opened my eyes, bursting that bubble. Yeah, it was a bubble. Death would have been easier.
Or I’d like to think so.
Either way, the pain was unbearable. I tried to cry out, but I didn’t hear my voice. I needed something to numb it down, but I didn’t know what.
It was all blurry. But my mind worked enough to tell me that the white and pale blue I saw around me was the interior of the hospital on Willow Street. The world around me was trembling in an earthquake that no one else seemed to notice.
The blurring was more distorted than ever, and suddenly everything went black again.
What the FUCK is going on??
I opened my eyes with a start. This time, it was all still. But every part of me was aching. The medicinal smell almost camouflaged that of my blood. I noticed I was in the hospital gown. On the floor, I saw the blood stained boots I wore earlier that day. George’s boots. Where was he? The last time I remember seeing him was in the car, on the way to the game.
The car. Something must’ve happened then.
I looked around to see if he was lying on the bed next to mine, but I was all alone in the room.
Oh shit. “GEORGE!!!!!”
No reply.
“George, where are you?” “Are you okay?”
“GEORGE!!!!”
Through the corner of my eyes, I saw someone rush into the room. Someone in white. I was losing sight again.
A stab of piercing pain in my arm and I was lost.
George
Where am I?
The darkness was so overpowering that my eyes took almost a few minutes to adjust to it. And even so, it was so dark that I couldn’t see much.
The bed was soft. And the blanket, warm.
I tried getting up to look around, but my body didn’t seem to respond.
It felt like a huge anchor was tied to each limb and weighed me down to the point of not being able to even turn in the bed, let alone getting up to leave it.
I tried moving just my right hand, to see if there was anything around that would tell me where I was.
After the first try, I knew that a casual effort wouldn’t work. I tried concentrating only on moving the hand. I put in every ounce of energy my body allowed me to. It still didn’t work.
The fourth time, my arm responded, though I wished the very next moment that it hadn’t.
The searing pain shot through the nerves at my wrist and I could almost feel it moving from one neuron to another, right to my shoulder and then my neck, the electric nerve signal pounding in every inch of the path it just travelled.
I screamed loudly as an impulse and took my arm back to where it was when I woke up. Once I did, I realized that screaming like that was the stupidest thing I could’ve done. I could be anywhere. Kidnapped and drugged, in a serial killer’s house. Or being set up for something I didn’t do.
I heard someone walk into the room. My brain asked me to keep still and pretend I was sleeping.
The figure walked upto me slowly, and I was thinking of the best possible escape from this.
But, to my surprise, the figure gently came and put a palm to my head. The soft hand was comforting. She switched on the small night lamp on the table next to me.
It became clear to me then. Her white uniform was glowing in the soft light. The pale blue curtains hung low against the window, and the table next to me had a clean jug of water, a glass, and a stack of pills.
She poured me some of the water and handed me a small, yellow pill.
I looked at her, my confusion finally clearing up. She smiled. I took the pill I assumed to be a pain killer. I was drifting back and the last thing I saw was her pretty, kind eyes.
Alex
It was the thirst that woke me up. It was already mid-morning. I beckoned to the nurse. She helped me sit up, poured some water in a glass and held it to my lips as I sipped.
Alex
Pitch dark. That’s the only thing I was aware of. I heard voices that seemed far, far away. Or in the back of my head. I didn’t know which one it was for sure.
But they were screaming. Panicking. Hollering. Crying.
The only thing I remember was a flash of bright light, and a loud horn. If it was that.
George
Black. Blinding light. Deafening sound. Black. Black. Black.
Alex
I thought I was dead. But the very next moment, I opened my eyes, bursting that bubble. Yeah, it was a bubble. Death would have been easier.
Or I’d like to think so.
Either way, the pain was unbearable. I tried to cry out, but I didn’t hear my voice. I needed something to numb it down, but I didn’t know what.
It was all blurry. But my mind worked enough to tell me that the white and pale blue I saw around me was the interior of the hospital on Willow Street. The world around me was trembling in an earthquake that no one else seemed to notice.
The blurring was more distorted than ever, and suddenly everything went black again.
What the FUCK is going on??
I opened my eyes with a start. This time, it was all still. But every part of me was aching. The medicinal smell almost camouflaged that of my blood. I noticed I was in the hospital gown. On the floor, I saw the blood stained boots I wore earlier that day. George’s boots. Where was he? The last time I remember seeing him was in the car, on the way to the game.
The car. Something must’ve happened then.
I looked around to see if he was lying on the bed next to mine, but I was all alone in the room.
Oh shit. “GEORGE!!!!!”
No reply.
“George, where are you?” “Are you okay?”
“GEORGE!!!!”
Through the corner of my eyes, I saw someone rush into the room. Someone in white. I was losing sight again.
A stab of piercing pain in my arm and I was lost.
George
Where am I?
The darkness was so overpowering that my eyes took almost a few minutes to adjust to it. And even so, it was so dark that I couldn’t see much.
The bed was soft. And the blanket, warm.
I tried getting up to look around, but my body didn’t seem to respond.
It felt like a huge anchor was tied to each limb and weighed me down to the point of not being able to even turn in the bed, let alone getting up to leave it.
I tried moving just my right hand, to see if there was anything around that would tell me where I was.
After the first try, I knew that a casual effort wouldn’t work. I tried concentrating only on moving the hand. I put in every ounce of energy my body allowed me to. It still didn’t work.
The fourth time, my arm responded, though I wished the very next moment that it hadn’t.
The searing pain shot through the nerves at my wrist and I could almost feel it moving from one neuron to another, right to my shoulder and then my neck, the electric nerve signal pounding in every inch of the path it just travelled.
I screamed loudly as an impulse and took my arm back to where it was when I woke up. Once I did, I realized that screaming like that was the stupidest thing I could’ve done. I could be anywhere. Kidnapped and drugged, in a serial killer’s house. Or being set up for something I didn’t do.
I heard someone walk into the room. My brain asked me to keep still and pretend I was sleeping.
The figure walked upto me slowly, and I was thinking of the best possible escape from this.
But, to my surprise, the figure gently came and put a palm to my head. The soft hand was comforting. She switched on the small night lamp on the table next to me.
It became clear to me then. Her white uniform was glowing in the soft light. The pale blue curtains hung low against the window, and the table next to me had a clean jug of water, a glass, and a stack of pills.
She poured me some of the water and handed me a small, yellow pill.
I looked at her, my confusion finally clearing up. She smiled. I took the pill I assumed to be a pain killer. I was drifting back and the last thing I saw was her pretty, kind eyes.
Alex
It was the thirst that woke me up. It was already mid-morning. I beckoned to the nurse. She helped me sit up, poured some water in a glass and held it to my lips as I sipped.
“Where’s George?” I asked her. “Where is he?”
The nurse looked at me, confused.
“Uhm. We didn’t really inform any of your relatives. We didn’t find any contacts.”
“No. Where is he? Where did you keep him?”
“Yes, sir. If you would give us his phone number, we can call him.”
“No! He was with me. In the car. He was with me. Where is he?”
“Sir?”
“Is he dead? Answer me, woman!! Did he die in the crash?”
“Sir, you survived that crash.”
“I know I did, you fool. Where’s George? He was with me.
We were on our way to the game!”
“Sir, you’re mistaken. There was no one else with you at the scene of the accident. You were the only one in your car!”
“What? That’s not possible! I’m telling you he was with me!!”
“Sir, I think you’re still in shock. You should get some rest.”
That’s it. I won’t take anymore of this. I need to get up and find George myself. So I tried moving my limbs, trying to ignore the searing pain in every muscle. But before I could actually make any progress, the doctor walked in. And in spite of all my will power, he gave me a shot, and in a matter of seconds, I was limp.
George
It was late afternoon when I woke up. The sky was an amalgamation of reds, oranges and yellows. I felt at peace, for some reason. I laughed, amused at myself.
Twenty years since I lost peace, and I find it in a hospital, for no apparent reason.
The nurse looked at me, confused.
“Uhm. We didn’t really inform any of your relatives. We didn’t find any contacts.”
“No. Where is he? Where did you keep him?”
“Yes, sir. If you would give us his phone number, we can call him.”
“No! He was with me. In the car. He was with me. Where is he?”
“Sir?”
“Is he dead? Answer me, woman!! Did he die in the crash?”
“Sir, you survived that crash.”
“I know I did, you fool. Where’s George? He was with me.
We were on our way to the game!”
“Sir, you’re mistaken. There was no one else with you at the scene of the accident. You were the only one in your car!”
“What? That’s not possible! I’m telling you he was with me!!”
“Sir, I think you’re still in shock. You should get some rest.”
That’s it. I won’t take anymore of this. I need to get up and find George myself. So I tried moving my limbs, trying to ignore the searing pain in every muscle. But before I could actually make any progress, the doctor walked in. And in spite of all my will power, he gave me a shot, and in a matter of seconds, I was limp.
George
It was late afternoon when I woke up. The sky was an amalgamation of reds, oranges and yellows. I felt at peace, for some reason. I laughed, amused at myself.
Twenty years since I lost peace, and I find it in a hospital, for no apparent reason.
She walked into the room, holding a notepad.
I saw those eyes again. But they were a little different this time. They were slightly afraid. I assumed that she must’ve seen something gruesome in the course of her duty.
She looked at me, a little shocked to see I was awake. I smiled.
She was taken aback by that. Poor thing, I thought. She probably met only those mean, troublesome patients that crib all day.
But she smiled back.
“Can I get you anything?”
“I’m fine. Thanks.”
“You should probably eat something.”
“Maybe.”
She left to return with a bowl of soup on a tray. I helped myself to it. The warm soup felt good against my sore throat.
I looked outside the window, the sun’s rays lighting up the room.
It was baffling how life unfolds itself and arrives at a point where you can’t do anything but laugh at yourself for being a fool, for planning every moment of it, not realizing that your plans don’t make any difference. Because no matter how hard you try, you cannot escape the plan it has for you.
I was orphaned at 5. My parents died in a fire that charred our cottage to ashes. I was a single child. And in all my life, my parents had never mentioned any relatives.We lived in the beautiful meadows of Turalsa. It was a long walk from school, but I loved it. We had a huge farm where we grew vegetables and fruits. We also had a poultry farm, and a beautiful stream, which was just a few minutes away.
Mom was a brilliant cook. I remember those warm, delicious cookies she baked. She loved feeding us, dad and me. She was always paranoid about my health. I used to get a lot of blackouts. She had even asked my teacher at school to take ‘good care’ of me. It was only when I was back in the meadows that she’d breathe easy.
“The town is a wicked place, son.”, she used to say. “They won’t treat you well. They will abuse you. And they will trample you. Don’t ever trust them.”
She was right. I realized later though. Much later.
Dad was the most jovial guy I’d known. He taught me to fish, to catch hens, to climb trees, and all the things a kid needed to learn. He read me my bedtime story. He was my hero.
Even after all these years, I wish I could be like him.
I didn’t have any friends. I didn’t live anywhere near the school, like the others did. It took me an hour and a half to walk there.
It’s not like we didn’t have neighbours. But all of them lived at least half an hour away.
“That is exactly the idea. We all live so far away from each other because we love the open space, but we still have a place to go to, and people to be familiar with.” Mom tried to explain the isolation when I asked.
I don’t remember much of the day they died.
One moment I was having lunch, and the next, I was outside the house, screaming loudly.
I saw my house collapsing, the huge orange flames engulfing whatever was left of it.
I stood rooted to the ground, my legs not ready to step ahead.
Fifteen minutes later, the firemen arrived. After they extinguished it, they turned to me, and told me calmly that my parents were no more. What happened after that was unclear, but I remember being carried by someone.Next thing I knew, I was in a police station.
I saw those eyes again. But they were a little different this time. They were slightly afraid. I assumed that she must’ve seen something gruesome in the course of her duty.
She looked at me, a little shocked to see I was awake. I smiled.
She was taken aback by that. Poor thing, I thought. She probably met only those mean, troublesome patients that crib all day.
But she smiled back.
“Can I get you anything?”
“I’m fine. Thanks.”
“You should probably eat something.”
“Maybe.”
She left to return with a bowl of soup on a tray. I helped myself to it. The warm soup felt good against my sore throat.
I looked outside the window, the sun’s rays lighting up the room.
It was baffling how life unfolds itself and arrives at a point where you can’t do anything but laugh at yourself for being a fool, for planning every moment of it, not realizing that your plans don’t make any difference. Because no matter how hard you try, you cannot escape the plan it has for you.
I was orphaned at 5. My parents died in a fire that charred our cottage to ashes. I was a single child. And in all my life, my parents had never mentioned any relatives.We lived in the beautiful meadows of Turalsa. It was a long walk from school, but I loved it. We had a huge farm where we grew vegetables and fruits. We also had a poultry farm, and a beautiful stream, which was just a few minutes away.
Mom was a brilliant cook. I remember those warm, delicious cookies she baked. She loved feeding us, dad and me. She was always paranoid about my health. I used to get a lot of blackouts. She had even asked my teacher at school to take ‘good care’ of me. It was only when I was back in the meadows that she’d breathe easy.
“The town is a wicked place, son.”, she used to say. “They won’t treat you well. They will abuse you. And they will trample you. Don’t ever trust them.”
She was right. I realized later though. Much later.
Dad was the most jovial guy I’d known. He taught me to fish, to catch hens, to climb trees, and all the things a kid needed to learn. He read me my bedtime story. He was my hero.
Even after all these years, I wish I could be like him.
I didn’t have any friends. I didn’t live anywhere near the school, like the others did. It took me an hour and a half to walk there.
It’s not like we didn’t have neighbours. But all of them lived at least half an hour away.
“That is exactly the idea. We all live so far away from each other because we love the open space, but we still have a place to go to, and people to be familiar with.” Mom tried to explain the isolation when I asked.
I don’t remember much of the day they died.
One moment I was having lunch, and the next, I was outside the house, screaming loudly.
I saw my house collapsing, the huge orange flames engulfing whatever was left of it.
I stood rooted to the ground, my legs not ready to step ahead.
Fifteen minutes later, the firemen arrived. After they extinguished it, they turned to me, and told me calmly that my parents were no more. What happened after that was unclear, but I remember being carried by someone.Next thing I knew, I was in a police station.
A few days later, I was sent to a foster home. A few weeks later, another one. And then another. Apparently they couldn’t handle a kid who was in so much trauma.
No one explained why I was beaten repeatedly by most of them though.
After that, I stopped trusting anyone but myself. I sketched out my life. I’d work and collect enough cash, and return to Turalsa. And I never got around to talking to people or making friends. I never felt anyone could understand me. Clearly, I was right.
Until this moment. Until today.
I know I didn’t know anything about this lady, but I saw a kindness in her eyes that I hadn’t seen since my father.
I won’t call it love. I’m not sure I even believe in it.
But I know there was something. Something meaningful. Something deep.
I closed my eyes and took a long breath.
Alex
I have to get out of here. The place was suffocating me in my head. And outside it. And I didn’t want to stay in a place where people to sedated me for asking about my own brother. ‘In shock’ the nurse said. In shock, my foot. They thought I was crazy. But they didn’t know anything.
I was sure that George was with me. I was talking to him!
I prayed that he wasn’t in trouble. He wasn’t that strong. He was a shy guy. Always had been. Ever since mom and dad died, he hardly spoke to anyone.
I think it was the way they died that shook him, rather than the fact that they did.
My parents hated my twin. Even more than they hated me. They would take me to an institution, as a kid. I was fucking electrocuted when I was 3. They thought they could curb my anger that way. Obviously, that didn’t work out. George was locked up in the attic. I was too, sometimes, when I got uncontrollably mad for what they were doing to me.
Then back at home, they acted like the most loving parents ever. Baking me cookies, going fishing, acting like everything was okay. Anyone else would think they were the nicest parents one could ask for. They didn’t know the truth. They didn’t know what George and me were going through.I was electrocuted four excruciating times before they realized it wouldn’t work.
That it only infuriated me further. That I would never forgive them.
George was the only person who accepted me for what I am. He doesn’t mind the bitterness. Those outbursts of malign anger. He just listens to me wanting to go stab someone, instead of judging me.
Not that I ever stabbed anyone. I just have a fiery temper.
Alex
After the first time I asked for George, I decided not to again.
I realized that another tantrum in front of the doctors would just make them think I’m crazy. I would go look for him myself. That is the only way I could find him. After that, I counted every minute to this one.
The doctor came up to me and told me that I have been discharged.
I wore my clothes. I put on the boots. George’s boots.
Then I wrote the hospital a check and left.
First stop. Home.
If George wasn’t there, he must have left a hint. If he had disappeared at his own free will, that is.
I checked my wallet. The notes were arranged neatly, in increasing order. George’s doing. My ID was kept in a different compartment.
I picked it up.
‘Alex Kent’ it said, in the typical, typewritten letters.
I would sometimes carry George’s ID with me. I didn’t have it today.
Until this moment. Until today.
I know I didn’t know anything about this lady, but I saw a kindness in her eyes that I hadn’t seen since my father.
I won’t call it love. I’m not sure I even believe in it.
But I know there was something. Something meaningful. Something deep.
I closed my eyes and took a long breath.
Alex
I have to get out of here. The place was suffocating me in my head. And outside it. And I didn’t want to stay in a place where people to sedated me for asking about my own brother. ‘In shock’ the nurse said. In shock, my foot. They thought I was crazy. But they didn’t know anything.
I was sure that George was with me. I was talking to him!
I prayed that he wasn’t in trouble. He wasn’t that strong. He was a shy guy. Always had been. Ever since mom and dad died, he hardly spoke to anyone.
I think it was the way they died that shook him, rather than the fact that they did.
My parents hated my twin. Even more than they hated me. They would take me to an institution, as a kid. I was fucking electrocuted when I was 3. They thought they could curb my anger that way. Obviously, that didn’t work out. George was locked up in the attic. I was too, sometimes, when I got uncontrollably mad for what they were doing to me.
Then back at home, they acted like the most loving parents ever. Baking me cookies, going fishing, acting like everything was okay. Anyone else would think they were the nicest parents one could ask for. They didn’t know the truth. They didn’t know what George and me were going through.I was electrocuted four excruciating times before they realized it wouldn’t work.
That it only infuriated me further. That I would never forgive them.
George was the only person who accepted me for what I am. He doesn’t mind the bitterness. Those outbursts of malign anger. He just listens to me wanting to go stab someone, instead of judging me.
Not that I ever stabbed anyone. I just have a fiery temper.
Alex
After the first time I asked for George, I decided not to again.
I realized that another tantrum in front of the doctors would just make them think I’m crazy. I would go look for him myself. That is the only way I could find him. After that, I counted every minute to this one.
The doctor came up to me and told me that I have been discharged.
I wore my clothes. I put on the boots. George’s boots.
Then I wrote the hospital a check and left.
First stop. Home.
If George wasn’t there, he must have left a hint. If he had disappeared at his own free will, that is.
I checked my wallet. The notes were arranged neatly, in increasing order. George’s doing. My ID was kept in a different compartment.
I picked it up.
‘Alex Kent’ it said, in the typical, typewritten letters.
I would sometimes carry George’s ID with me. I didn’t have it today.
I opened the door to our flat.
No George.
My head started spinning. I struggled as I tried to find my way inside, to my room. I had hardly reached my bed, when it all went black again.
George
Holy shit!! What on earth just happened? The last thing I remember was falling off to sleep in the hospital. And now I’m waking up at home! It must’ve been one of those damned blackouts again.
I got myself out of bed and made some coffee.
I was pacing up and down the room, trying to remember what happened.Then something glinted. I turned to look at the huge mirror in my room, reflecting the few rays of the sun that made their way through the breezing curtains.
I walked to it, slowly, my eyes fixed upon my own reflection. I kept walking till I was within an inch of myself.
My mind was drawing such a huge blank that I’d lost control over my own thoughts and muscles. I saw myself lift a hand, right or left, I couldn’t figure out.
I felt my fingertips on the cool glass, my dark green eyes not leaving my own. I was faintly aware of a headache growing. But I was too busy to do anything about it. So it kept growing. And growing. Suddenly there was a flash of light and…..
Alex
My head started spinning. I struggled as I tried to find my way inside, to my room. I had hardly reached my bed, when it all went black again.
George
Holy shit!! What on earth just happened? The last thing I remember was falling off to sleep in the hospital. And now I’m waking up at home! It must’ve been one of those damned blackouts again.
I got myself out of bed and made some coffee.
I was pacing up and down the room, trying to remember what happened.Then something glinted. I turned to look at the huge mirror in my room, reflecting the few rays of the sun that made their way through the breezing curtains.
I walked to it, slowly, my eyes fixed upon my own reflection. I kept walking till I was within an inch of myself.
My mind was drawing such a huge blank that I’d lost control over my own thoughts and muscles. I saw myself lift a hand, right or left, I couldn’t figure out.
I felt my fingertips on the cool glass, my dark green eyes not leaving my own. I was faintly aware of a headache growing. But I was too busy to do anything about it. So it kept growing. And growing. Suddenly there was a flash of light and…..
Alex
….I opened my eyes. I was standing so close to the mirror that I almost jumped at the sight of myself. God, I get so weird sometimes.
I walked to the bed, and started rummaging the drawer to see if George had left anything, even a note, or some proof that he was going to be in trouble.
I looked in his wardrobe, threw out his clothes. Nothing.
Then I went to a shelf with his files and stuff from work. Nothing again.
Damn it.
I walked to the bed, and started rummaging the drawer to see if George had left anything, even a note, or some proof that he was going to be in trouble.
I looked in his wardrobe, threw out his clothes. Nothing.
Then I went to a shelf with his files and stuff from work. Nothing again.
Damn it.
I saw a stack of books on the table. Those were his favourite ones. Bloody hell, how did all this happen? I picked up the whole stack and flung them to the wall. I saw them fly, each on of them.
Then, as one of them hit the wall, a photograph fell out of it. I bent to pick it up and studied it. It was the charred remains of my parents’ house.
Then, as one of them hit the wall, a photograph fell out of it. I bent to pick it up and studied it. It was the charred remains of my parents’ house.
The house that gave us both so much grief. The goddamned house. And its occupants.
And the day it all ended. The day I ended all of it. The day I couldn’t take their bullshit anymore.
And the day it all ended. The day I ended all of it. The day I couldn’t take their bullshit anymore.
The day I swore that I’d protect George from his parents who refuse to accept his existence. The day I saved my brother’s life.
From the corner of my eye, I saw George walk into the room.
He smiled and hugged me.
As I said, I have a fiery temper.
He smiled and hugged me.
As I said, I have a fiery temper.
