Chapter four: Lost and found.(To read chapter one, two and three, just scroll down).
"Jamie, Im so sorry" I say to her. I try to approach her, but she flinches, she can't look me in the eyes.
"I don't know what happened, I was dreaming, having a nightmare". Jamie doesn't even look up, she just turns and locks herself in the bathroom. I can hear her crying inside.
I just sit in the bed, completely shocked about what just happened. What the hell just happened? It all looked so real, it felt real, every part of it. The pain. I stare at my arms, trying to find a trace of an injury, but there is nothing, just muscle and skin. I clutch my hands into fists and hit the mattress with all the force that I have. It does not make me feel any better.
I thought I could escape it. Deal with it. Learn to live with my sickness. I had a routine. It worked, well, I thought it did. I guess you can't run away from something that is always there, haunting you, eating you alive.
I try to retrace my steps, I am more than confused, I don't know what is real and what is not. Am I even here right now? How could I know. Not being able to trust your own brain, for it to not be able to show you what you are trying to see, to not be able to trust your own memories, what you think is your life, what made you who you are. It all wells up into a excruciatingly pain that takes me full force. What am I supposed to do?
There is a click in the bathroom door. Light pours out and I focus on Jamie's face. Her eyes are puffy, her hair is a complete mess. There is a big rip in her t-shirt. Did I do that? How much did I hurt her? I can't figure our her expression. It feels like something I have seen before, and something that I don't wanna see ever again. Disappointment. Pain. Unhappiness. Me, hurting her.
"Jaime, has anything like this ever happened before?" I ask her. I am afraid to know the answer. She finally looks up and stares at me. She opens her mouth to say something, but she stops herself. She looks down again and stares at her hands. I get up.
"Jaime, look at me, have I hurt you before?"
"Tell me!" I yell at her.
"Yes. It's not the first time". She slowly walks to the edge of the bed and she sits.
"How many times before?" I ask.
No. How? How could I forget it? How can I not know this? What the hell is going on?
"I need you to tell me everything, right now".
"What do you mean, no. This is my life we are talking about Jaime". I am angry, so angry. I don't know who I am, and what the hell I am doing here? She has the answers, and she won't tell me.
"Jaime, this is my life, I need to know WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!".
Jaime starts laughing. It scares me. She look up at me, her eyes are weird. Bigger than usual. She is laughing loudly, not the sweet laugh that I remember. This one is deep and disturbing. Something is not right. Am I dreaming again? Is this real?
"Jaime stop, you are scaring me".
She continues laughing. The whole room shakes with the sound coming out of her mouth.
"Stop!" I hold my hand into my ears, trying to block it away, but the laugh is still here, penetrating my brain.
My heart is pounding in my chest. It feels like its going to explode and I am going to die. I fall into the floor and curl up into a ball. There is a drilling sound, I can't tell where it is coming from, but it hurts me. There is pain in my body, a lot of pain. I can't concentrate. I only feel pain, it is everywhere. It is taking over me.
A beeping sound wakes me up. I can not open my eyes. They feel heavy. I try concentrating in my breathing, I open my mouth, but it hurts. It's so dry.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I slowly try to come back. I manage to open my eyes. But a light hurts them, so I close them again.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I open them again. Things start to come into focus. There is a machine. I am in a bed. There are curtains around me. Something clicks in my brain. I am in a hospital. The beeping sound is my heart-rate.
What happened? Nothing makes sense.
Someone opens the curtains. A nurse.
"Mr. Reginton. I see you are awake. How are you feeling?" She asks.
I now see the rest of the room. There is a small table with a vase filled with flowers, but they are dead. There is a window on the right side. It is dark outside. Nighttime. The scariest of times.
"You gave us quite a scare there. You had a heart attack, had to go into surgery, but Dr. Wellington fixed you right up. You are gonna be in pain for a few weeks, and you'll need a lot of recovery time. But are going to be okey".
A heart attack? When did this happen? My arms itch. For the first time I look at them. Something is wrong. Very wrong. They are not the arms I remember. They have wrinkles and spots. They are... they are old.
I start to panic. I lift them and stare at them closely. They are not my arms! They are not! I swallow some saliva and try to speak.
"Don't try to talk right now honey" The nurse says as she approaches me. "You should rest".
I will not rest, I need to look at myself.
"A... a.... mirror". I manage to say. The nurse stares at me in confusion.
"Please". She hesitates, but then she walks out of my vision, I hear the clicking of her shoes. For a moment I think she ignored me completely. But then I hear coming back.
She holds a small hand mirror.
"Here" she says, as she extends it towards me.
My whole body is shaking, so she helps me hold it. I close my eyes. And then I open them. An old man is staring back at me. A very old man. He has no hair. His eyes are swollen and his skin is almost transparent and full of wrinkles. I do not know him. Who is he? Who am I?
Everything comes crashing at once. My breathing is hard. The nurse tries to take to mirror out of my hand but I hold on to it with all that I have. This old man's eyes are panicked. He is scared. And in them I see a flicker of recognition. They seen familiar. They are my eyes. I am me. I am the old man.
I am lost, but at the same time, I am found. Nothing makes sense. But seeing my reflexion makes me almost remember something. I can't grasp it, but I can feel it. I've been sick, I've been lost inside myself. But now, now I know. This is me.
And I know that soon there will be nothing left of me. I will be gone again. And I hope, I really hope, that the next time that happens, soon, I will be gone forever.