Beyond the blurred tears in your eyes you don't even notice the torrential downpour that has begun to fall, drenching the oily highway and streaming off the sides of the road. Your foot pushes the gas pedal further to the floor, perhaps out of anger, perhaps out of anguish. Regardless of the reason, your car accelerates down the dark road. Speeding dangerously fast. Suddenly you are snapped back into the present by the stomach turning sensation of the tires breaking loose from the pavement and the car fishtailing wrecklessly down the road. The vehicle bucks as it runs off the road, throwing you from side to side within the car. For a fleeting moment you recall that you didn't put your seatbelt on and then all thought is snapped off into darkness with a crash.
A fuzzy haze fills your field of vision. A cool blue light. Slowly shapes and forms begin to come more into focus. You are unable to see peripherally but you can make out ceiling tiles and florescent lighting. Occassionally the shine of a pink mylar balloon floats into your line of sight and then bobs back out again. You can't feel any pain. Come to think of it, you can't feel anything at all. The ringing in your ears begins to subside and you can make out a consistant beeping in the background. Panic begins to set in as you struggle to move any part of your body. You can't even sense where your arms and legs are. You lack any control of your body. You let out a scream but it only echos in your mind, Your mouth doesn't utter a sound. You lie there, unable to move, staring straight ahead for what seems to be hours. A million questions leap in and out of your mind. What happened? Why can't I feel my legs? Why can't I feel anything? Finally you hear a familiar sound. It is crisp and clear in the silence of the artificially lighted prison. You hear the door click and the sound of heels on the floor. A beautiful bouquet of daisys and tulips appears in front of you. The sweet perfume of the the fragrant flowers fills the stagnant antiseptic air. You try to breath in their sweet scent but you are regulated by a timed breath, unable to change the rythym. The flowers disappear and a face takes it's place. It takes a moment for your focus to lock in on the figure in front of you. It's your mother. A wash of relief pours over you. You try to call out to your mother, asking her all the questions you so desperately want the answers to, but again, no words seep from your throat.