Damien

London

A few hours earlier

THE FIRST THING THAT hits me when I open my eyes is that revolting hospital smell. I hate it! I have always hated it! The word hospital ought to come patented with that typical nausea inducing antiseptic smell.

The persistent beep of a monitor makes me turn my head to the green lines on its screen. My eyes widen as I scan my surroundings. Bloody hell! I’m on a hospital bed, connected to a heart rate monitor and dozens of other tubes and I have no fucking clue as to why.

“Thank God! You’re awake. You’re finally awake.” A familiar voice speaks from my side.

It’s my best friend Gabriel! He’s standing beside me, his expression worried and relieved at the same time. Dark shadows surround his eyes and his clothes are wrinkled. I try to sit up but a sharp pain in my head stops me. A loud wince escapes my lips and Gabe immediately squeezes my shoulder.

“Don’t, Damien, please. Just lie down. I’m going to fetch a doctor.”

I shut my eyes and hesitantly touch my head. Sure enough, most of my head is wrapped in bandages. Why am I here? What has happened to me? I can’t for the life of me comprehend what is going on. My mouth opens and closes but no sound comes out of my dry throat.

Gabe returns with a doctor, Dr. McKenzie from what I can read on his badge. He has a white mop of hair and a somber expression on his face. He shines some light in my eyes and checks my pressure while asking some preliminary questions. How do I feel? Does it hurt anywhere else? Can I feel my arms, my legs? Can I move them etc, etc? I give him answers with nods of my head.

After he’s done, I take a deep breath and try to speak again, but what comes out is a choked sound. The doctor hands me a glass of water. I take a sip and try again.

“What happened to me?” I ask, my voice sounding hoarse from un-use for God knows how long.

Gabe is staring at me, a frown knotted on his brow. “Damien, you were in a car accident. Don’t you remember?”

An accident? When was I in an accident? Fuck! My mind is a huge empty blank.

“I don’t recall being in a car accident,” I bark out, “and I don’t have patience for this nonsense. I need some answers, NOW!”

“Damien, you need to calm down,” Gabe says.

The doctor takes a step closer to me. “What is the last thing you remember?” he asks.

I take a moment to think back. “It was my birthday. I was at a coffee shop waiting for Gabe.”

“What year is it?” Gabe asks me.