muse_shuffle April Disc 2 Track 19
19. They hold my hand and ask me to pull through/A voice I know says dear, he probably can’t hear you...
[‘Air’ - Ben Folds Five]
Comas are funny things.
Most of the time it was just like being asleep, a deep sleep; the kind where you wake up and you're momentarily disoriented about where you are and what you might have been up to last night before rolling over onto your side and going back to sleep. But there's no turning over here because the slightest movement sends pain shooting through his body, though he can't remember why, and only sleep brings relief from it.
Then there were the other times that didn't really have a name. It was like being awake but being asleep at the same time - he could hear things happening around him, hear voices, but couldn't see anything because he lacked the strength to open his eyes. And he was too tired to put names to the familiar voices he heard talking to him. But he heard them, their words of encouragement, their conversations about his health and about an investigation into some shooting.
He may have dreamed, he might not have. If he did they were forgotten when he finally woke up in the hospital two days later, his mouth tasting like an old sweat sock and his shoulder throbbing in time with his pulse and recalling those last minutes at the jewelry store clear as day.
Muse: Tim Speedle
Fandom: CSI: Miami
Word count: 218
[‘Air’ - Ben Folds Five]
Comas are funny things.
Most of the time it was just like being asleep, a deep sleep; the kind where you wake up and you're momentarily disoriented about where you are and what you might have been up to last night before rolling over onto your side and going back to sleep. But there's no turning over here because the slightest movement sends pain shooting through his body, though he can't remember why, and only sleep brings relief from it.
Then there were the other times that didn't really have a name. It was like being awake but being asleep at the same time - he could hear things happening around him, hear voices, but couldn't see anything because he lacked the strength to open his eyes. And he was too tired to put names to the familiar voices he heard talking to him. But he heard them, their words of encouragement, their conversations about his health and about an investigation into some shooting.
He may have dreamed, he might not have. If he did they were forgotten when he finally woke up in the hospital two days later, his mouth tasting like an old sweat sock and his shoulder throbbing in time with his pulse and recalling those last minutes at the jewelry store clear as day.
Muse: Tim Speedle
Fandom: CSI: Miami
Word count: 218