Darkness

Note: The characters < and > are italics in the original text.



Darkness was all I could see and nothingness was all I could feel. At first I thought I was in a very peaceful slumber. And I thought I was so deeply relaxed in my sleep that I couldn’t even move my left arm to reach for my alarm clock which stood on my bedside night table. And the misleading thought that I was asleep made me believe that was the reason why my muscles did not obey my brain’s commands. After all I had said goodnight to my parents before I retired to my bed, so it made sense to think I was in that deep slumber.

I have always been a good sleeper. Rarely would I wake up through the night. My alarm clock would take care of that, with that restless beeping which I usually snoozed, allowing me another eight minutes of rest, and then the beeping resuming after those eight minutes, meaning resting time was over and it was time to rise.

Then I noticed that wheezing noise which was difficult to fathom in my baffled state as I still hadn’t come out of my slumber utterly. My breathing seemed bizarre and eerily noisy as I could feel I was not breathing through my nose and not through my mouth either. It rather felt as if I were breathing through my throat. And the more my senses were coming around, the more conspicuously hideous that noise became. <This cannot be real, this cannot be happening, it must be a dream, a bad dream but nevertheless a dream. And I will wake up soon and everything will be back to normal. This cannot be a tracheotomy, oh God no. I would have realized if I had had a tracheotomy done to me.> As I attempted to touch my throat and examine what was happening to my throat, I realized once again that my arms were not responding at all. I tried one arm first, then the other one to no avail. I also tried to wiggle my toes, then move my feet, my legs but to my dismay I got no response at all.

<But I know I’m breathing, I can hear that, so how about testing my breathing? I can always try to slow down or speed up my breathing. But what would be the point of doing that? Maybe it makes sense. If I can control my breathing, that means that some muscles respond to my commands and some others don’t.> Further dismay set upon my heart when I ascertained that I could actually control my breathing. <What the heck is really going on? There must be something horribly wrong with my limbs! I cannot move my limbs and I cannot feel them.>

I was beginning to have an ominous feeling, an eerie thought that this was the gruesome reality, that it was real and not a dream. <But it must be a dream, I have to wake up now, I want to scream, to move, to cry, to shout and to … oh God, please God, don’t take that away from me … I really want to open my eyes.>

I still had hope that things would return to normality and that eventually I was going to escape from this nightmare. I was thinking about my usual routine in the morning and about meeting up with my fiancé in the evening and about some of the activities I used to do on a regular basis. My thoughts were shifting from one area of my life to another, but they focused mostly on my fiancé and the wedding we had planned for the beginning of the following year. We were only seven months away from it, provided nothing went awry. We were both in our early thirties and we certainly worked hard so we could save some money not only for the wedding, but for necessary items such as a settee, a chest of drawers, a wide screen television, and so on. Nothing had gone awry so far save this horrid situation.

Suddenly, all these thoughts vanished at once like a bird that escapes from its cage, when I heard the door open. <Who is coming into my room? Is it you dad or is it you mum? Why did you not knock on the door? It is rude to barge in like that, you know?> With awe, I realized it wasn’t dad and it wasn’t mum. I could hear the clacking of shoes on the uncarpeted room, so this was not my room since mine is carpeted. I strove to utter a few words: <Who is that? Where am I? Why did you not knock on my door? Why did you barge in like that?> But words were not spurting out, all I could do was reflect and listen, listen and reflect. I was still in a daze, and in the first instance I assumed it was due to my sleepiness, but as the minutes went by, I gathered that clarity of mind was not returning. My judging ability had been diminished as if I had been intoxicated by alcohol or some other kind of drug. <Maybe I have been given drugs. But of course I have. If this is not my room and I feel like I have a tracheotomy and I cannot move my limbs and I am in a daze, I can only gather that I am in a hospital room. But why did I end up here? What has happened to me?> All my efforts to move, to see, even to speak had been thwarted.

The person in this room, probably a nurse or a doctor, was loitering around my bed, as I could perceive that clacking, both sounds and vibrations, then stopped and another sound, a metallic rattling which I could not make out, then the rustling of paper as if this nurse or doctor were scribbling some notes. A couple of steps away from me, probably towards the door and then silence. <Why is this nurse or doctor not moving now? Why has he or she stopped? What is he or she doing? Does anyone believe in humans having a sixth sense? Because I can feel stared at. I can sense this person is staring at me and I can feel the resulting goose pimples.>
“What a shame!” A female voice muttered sadly. Then the door hinges squeaked and the clacking sounds gradually waned with each step.
Like an electricity jolt, dismay thundered through my soul. I inferred I was looking pitiful and pathetic, and that something extremely serious had occurred to me. I didn’t know what but what I did know was that I couldn’t see myself and that I couldn’t enquire either. I felt this horrid helplessness as if I had fallen into a well, and in spite of hoarse cries and screams, no rescue was in sight.

<What a shame? What did this female voice mean by that? Am I just paralyzed? Or do I look deformed? Maybe both. But what has really happened to me? Why am I not at home? I really want to know.> Tears were oozing out of my eyes and running down my cheeks. The feeling was indescribable. Nonetheless, it felt like helplessness to the extreme. Like being in that well, knowing that rescue was out of the question. It was like losing something really valuable, with the mind not being ready to accept it. And although the facts were unknown to me, it was simple to deduce that my very life as I used to know it, was over. My work, my wedding, my social life, travelling, even reading a good novel; all the things we take for granted in life, all the things we assume we have and that we will always have; everything was gone for good. And I was left here to reflect. <Yes, I have plenty of time to reflect. I do not know if it’s going to be weeks, or months, or years. But for some reason I have been punished here to envisage what my life could have been like with the constant realization and reminder that it will never be normal any longer. This dreadful nightmare will probably linger until the end of my existence, but how long will I live for, please, can anyone give me a clue?>

As I was begging for a clue – it seemed like some divine power had heard my pleas – the door drew open, again those squeaky hinges and clacking sounds. But this time there were more than two feet. The same female voice as before whispered: “Please, do not try to move her, do not touch her under any circumstances, since her skin can break up easily and maximum stay is ten minutes. She is extremely fragile and her burns are the worst I have ever seen in my nursing career.”
“Ok, I won’t stay longer than ten minutes. Thank you, nurse.” A river of tears travelled down my cheeks when I heard the sweet voice of my sister Anne.
Then she drew nearer and called my name with a trembling voice: “Rose, I came as soon as I heard what had happened.”
<Yes, but what has happened, sister? If only I could telepathically communicate with you. If only I could get some answers. But above all, if only I could just have a conversation with you. I’m not asking for hours of telephone conversation as we have done millions of times, but only ten minutes. If you knew how much I would give to speak to you for only ten minutes.>
“I’ve been speaking to the doctors,” my sister added, “and they say that you will recover a bit, slowly but your condition will improve, and maybe one day I can take you home with me for an evening and …”
My sister’s voice wavered and quivered, until she burst out in tears, sobbing uncontrollably. Then incapable of restraining her emotions, stormed out of the room blubbering louder and as she was briskly striding away, her uncontrollable sobbing sounds dwindled until they utterly vanished. I was left alone again for another session of endless dreadful meditation.

<Anne, could you not have stayed a bit longer? Can’t you see that I don’t want to be alone? How would you feel, sister? And why did you storm out like that? Do I look like a monster perhaps? You didn’t even say that my condition is going to improve considerably, you said a bit. But whatever you have seen has really upset you. Maybe next time you need to be stronger and stay with me a little longer. And what did the nurse say about the burns? She said they were the worst she has ever seen, didn’t she? So I was burned. And seemingly, I was burned badly. That’s why I’m here, aren’t I? Logically, I was burning in my sleep and somebody, somehow, has saved my life. But the question now is: do I really want to live like this? What motivation could I possibly have to desire life? Certainly, there is none. No motivation I can think of. None at all, except one. What if I could find out what exactly has happened to me. If I was burning in my sleep, how did the fire start and what caused it? What exactly do I look like? It will be hard to accept those facts, but I would like to know. I can only listen and think. But with a little patience I might learn the exact events. And if I do, then I reckon that … I reckon that I’ll be ready. Ready to extinguish the dimmed candle light within my currently worthless existence, should I have the courage and capability.>


Reflection and meditation were not necessarily beneficial all the time but what else was I capable of doing? Apart from listening to that horrid wheezing sound I produced when breathing, there was nothing left for me to do. It was the only sound that disrupted silence, except for some occasional distant voices that originated outside my room. Some of them probably from nurses, others from patients and perhaps some others from visitors in this hospital whose name I did not know and I cared little about. I was more concerned about one odd and unpleasant emotion that stayed deep within me. An emotion of loneliness mingled with desperation and helplessness. At first, desperation and helplessness were the major enemy, but gradually, loneliness was taking over, to the point that is was becoming an increasingly cruel feeling. I felt time was passing by very slowly, even though I did not have any track of it. Thankfully, the drugs I was supposedly administered granted me the respite of sleep. My thoughts grew more and more nebulous, as if shrouded in a cloud until I eventually fell into a deep slumber.

Suddenly, as if by teleportation, I found myself swimming in the sea. The sky was very blue and the stinging sun was baking the beach cluttered with hundreds of nearly-naked sunbathers. I could feel the pleasant heat of the sun mingled with the refreshing coolness of the sea-water. The waves were high and strong, and I was relishing the roller-coaster-like motion, being carried to the crest of the wave, then swiftly sliding down until I crashed into then next wave, experiencing the delightful sensations of the summer heat and the powerful sea-waves. When I started feeling tired I decided to start swimming back to the beach with the purpose of lying on a towel for a sun-baking session and a drink of cool mineral water. As I was swimming towards the beach, I realized that the tide was slowly pulling me inward, and no matter how hard I struggled, I was not making any progress toward safety. My energy and courage were beginning to falter, and I was hoping that somebody would notice that I was struggling to get back but was incapable of it. Hundreds of holiday-makers not farther from me than just a few yards, and not one seemed to notice me. If I didn’t get help soon I was going to drown but rescue was not coming. Nobody appeared to see me except for one man. A man with no countenance except for his dull and expressionless eyes, who seemed to be gazing at me. <I need your help mister. Please, don’t stay still. Get me a rope or something. At least get the attention of other people, so that someone else gives me a hand. But don’t remain there watching me drown.> The faceless man never moved, he just kept gazing at me for a few seconds and then he calmly called my name, as if he had known me for a long time.

“Rose,” Richard said. I swiftly returned to reality when my fiancé Richard called my name. That dream in the sea seemed so realistic. It is amazing the tricks the human mind can play. I genuinely felt I was there. I was actually enjoying the first part of the dream, but the second was probably a worse hardship than that of my hopeless reality in that hospital. The unbearable feeling of being surrounded by so many people but I was nevertheless filled with loneliness; being in a precarious situation while nobody would lend a hand; realizing how an impassive-looking man was watching me die. I was actually glad to have been awakened. And especially by Richard, the one person in this world I wanted to be with the most.

“Your sister has called me at work and I came here straight away,” Richard continued, “I do not know what to say, Rose. I don’t know whether you can hear me but I really want to come and see you everyday. Anne sounded extremely distressed and weepy over the phone. She told me how she had stormed out of this room, but that was only because she is very attached to you, Rose. She loves you very much. We all love you.” He barely managed to finish that sentence as his voice was increasingly shaky and sounded as if he was beginning to weep. Obviously, Richard was very distressed as well, although I could sense that he was trying to control his emotions, succeeding to an extent. <Richard, if only I could speak to you. Why have I been robbed of everything in my life? I cannot even say hello to you. I cannot hold your hand or kiss you or look into your eyes or smile at you. I cannot do anything. This is an inhumane agony. But at least you are here with me, Richard. And I hope you are not running away from me as well. Please, stay a bit longer. Please, don’t go.> “I want you to know that nothing has changed, and that I will always be by your side, Rose.” There was a knock on the door and presumably one of the nurses said to Richard that his visiting time was over. Richard said goodbye to me and that he would be back the following day and walked out.

I was left on my own again. I didn’t know if it was morning or afternoon or evening. Time was passing by very slowly. Lying in a hospital bed without anything to do at all is not exactly fun. But at least, I had had two visitors. But then one terrible thought struck me hard right in the heart: <Why have my parents not come to see me? I know they would never forsake me. I know they would be here with me if they could. So I gather that if they haven’t visited me yet is because they can’t. And that could be for one of two reasons: one, they have been hospitalized like myself; two, they have left this unfair world. Please, God, don’t tell me I have lost my dear parents. That would be too much for me to take. Obviously, the fire didn’t just sear my bedroom but the entire house and my parents have fallen victims of it as well. What have I done to deserve this? And what have my parents done? But how did the fire start? Was it an accident or was it provoked? Who could be interested in killing us? As far as I know, we don’t have any enemies.>

Thoughts and more thoughts inundated my mind to the point I thought I was growing insane. Tiredness gradually invaded my being probably from the huge amounts of medication I must have been administered and I felt I was drifting away again. This time I was transported to my back garden, where I found myself throwing pieces of bread on the lawn for the birds. The lawn was partially covered by the autumn leaves, which rustled when the wind sporadically gusted. A few pigeons started to land on the lawn at the sight of the soggy bread. These few pigeons attracted more, which in turn attracted even more. Before I knew it, my whole back garden was filled with fluttering hungry birds fighting for a piece of bread. <No need to fight over a piece of bread, ladies and gentlemen, there’s enough for everybody.> The birds kept coming, at first it was only pigeons, but seagulls and crows followed. The whole thing was relaxing. The sporadic cool breeze was nice and the sound of the birds soothing. It was all interrupted by an unknown sudden explosion-like sound that came from a few miles away. The panic-stricken birds flew away, flapping their wings briskly, instinct dictating them they had to find a safer place. All the birds had disappeared from my garden except for one crow, which stood a few feet away from me staring at me. This crow was not interested in the bread and it did not get scared by the explosion or whatever had happened somewhere in my small town. This crow was only interested in me, it was observing me, it was trying to read me, it was scrutinizing me. I stared back at it but it did not make a difference. The crow kept gazing at me impassively and calmly.

When I woke up, I could hear steps hovering about my room. There were two or three people. “One here,” a male voice said. “That’s fine, this will do,” another male voice replied. Then I heard the squeaky door hinges again and they left. I wondered what they were doing, but my imagination did not manage to come up with a reasonable explanation.

The door opened again and this time it was my aunt Tabitha accompanied by my uncle George. The only words my aunt said to me were that she had brought some flowers for me. The rest of the time, she was engrossed in a conversation with my uncle about such trivial and uninteresting things that I would rather be alone. <Thanks very much for the flowers auntie, but I cannot see them. Did they not tell you I was blind? The best thing and actually the only thing you could do for me, is simply to talk to me. We only have ten minutes, then why don’t you talk to me?> When the time was up they left. Silence, boredom, loneliness, helplessness and desperation tormented my mind once again but this torment was short-lived as the door drew open again, I heard steps getting closer to me, the rasping sound of a chair being dragged on the floor next to my bed and the distinct sound of a person slumping in it. “I’m sorry for storming out like that yesterday, sister.” That sweet voice that belonged to my sister Anne uttered apologetically. “It won’t happen again. By the way, I’ve been speaking to the doctor and I can now stay longer than ten minutes. And guess what? I’ve brought something for you. I know that you can hear and that you’ve always enjoyed reading, so I got a few audio books for you. State of fear by Michael Crichton, The Testament by Grisham, Interview with a vampire by Anne Rice and I have more at home. I also brought a radio so you can listen to your favourite music and as I know the kind of music you like, I will make sure the right stations are on for you.” <Thank you, sister. You are a million times more intelligent than auntie Tabitha. I will love those stories. That will really make a difference in my miserable life. It will definitely soothe my suffering and agony.>

My sister stayed with me for about an hour and she started State of Fear by Crichton before she left. She also gave instructions to the nursing staff, so that they would stop the tape after a couple of hours and play the radio for a while. My sister had already selected a station that she knew I liked. My suffering lessened a great deal since I was able to concentrate on the stories, the music, the news, debates, etc diverting a lot of the dreadful and depressing thoughts that dwelled in my mind. Life became somewhat less miserable. My sister had had a brilliant idea and I will be eternally grateful to her.

From that day, my life revolved around stories, the radio and visitors. My sister came to see me often. Richard’s visits were abundant at first, but gradually, his number of visits decreased. Auntie Tabitha came back a few times with more flowers. Some of my best friends came as well. My parents never came. And in general, the frequency of visits had lessened. The only person who was there for me all the time, the one who never let me down was my sister. She was always positive and she was always striving to cheer me up. She never spoke about anything unpleasant or something that could upset me. Days and weeks went by, and my condition remained the same. I was still blind, I couldn’t move and my breathing was much the same. The nurses talked to me sometimes, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to reply. Some of them were really lovely but some others were a sharp pain in the backside or what I call a haemorrhoid. But all in all, I was being treated very well. I cannot really say that I was satisfied with my life but at least it is a bit more bearable when people show consideration in the given circumstances.

However, one day I had a visit that nearly killed me. Like always, I heard the door hinges squeak and footsteps draw near me. Whoever it was, did not speak for a long while. Again, I felt stared at. Then silence broke. “Hello Rose, you remember me? It’s Charlie.” <What the hell are you doing here? We haven’t spoken for years, Charlie. And how did you know I was here? I don’t really want to listen to you. I listened to you long enough years ago when you wanted me as something more than just a friend. But that was many years ago, and now that the slate is wiped clean, please, leave.>

“I can see you have a nice radio. If you don’t mind I’ll turn it off, so we can speak better, but if you prefer to have it on, by all means say so.” Charlie said sarcastically. I’m sure he knew fine I couldn’t speak. But I couldn’t believe he had come to see me. I know he was infatuated with me, but that was years and years ago. I had explained to him over and over again that I didn’t want a relationship with him, but he kept insisting so many times that one day I shouted at him. He was hurt but he finally seemed to understand the message I was trying to convey to him.
“Oh, nice stories you have here. We both have the same taste. Really, we have so much in common.”
I could feel stared at again. I had this uncanny feeling that he was observing me, trying to read me, scrutinizing me like the crow in my dream. Or like the faceless man on the beach watching me die. My dreams were actually telling me something, they were warning me.
“It’s been a long time, Rose and it seems that we have been reunited in this sad hospital room.” Charlie was still being sarcastic.
“By the way,” Charlie continued, “my deepest condolences about your parents’ death. It’s horrible the way they died. But it’s their fault they are dead. Apparently, they tried to save you. They would be alive today if they hadn’t. They are dead because of you, Rose.”
<You bastard, please leave now. I don’t want to hear any of this coming from your big mouth.> I had suspected my parents were dead but the fact they had died because they had tried to save my life hurt ten times more. And the fact that it was Charlie who gave me the bad news made it a lot worse still. My heart was pumping hard in my chest. I felt so vulnerable. And I knew my condition was very critical and I was extremely fragile. It was really hard to accept this information and health-wise it was life-threatening. My breathing was speeding up due to my agitation, which Charlie had definitely noticed, encouraging him to carry on tormenting me.
“They tried to save you, Rose, they tried to save you. But they never made it. The house collapsed and they burned to death. However, it was a miracle you survived but look at you. Oh, sorry, I forgot you were blind. But what’s left of you is so horrible! You look like a freak. How could anyone desire you any more? Even Richard doesn’t want your body anymore. I saw him a few days ago with that bitch, who works as a domestic in this hospital. It was such a romantic sight.”
My heart was pumping harder and harder. My breathing kept speeding up. If he kept talking any longer, I would die and I didn’t want to perish like this. <Where are the nurses? Where is my sister? I thought they were looking after me. And now that I need them the most, they are not here. Please, somebody. I need this asshole out of here.>
He drew nearer and whispered softly in my right ear.
“If I don’t have you, nobody else is going to. Two petrol-bombs flew through your window and they didn’t kill you. But it’s better that way, so we can talk about old times, don’t you agree?”
Then, he retreated and went round the bed to whisper in my other ear. The sound of his footsteps and his voice was as if he was taking his time and especially delight on what he was doing. Obviously, he intended to torment me for as long as he could and he wanted to hurt me as badly as possible. He has harboured an immense grudge against me for years and this was payback time.
Before he started whispering in my left ear, he blew hard in it, in an attempt to humiliate me: “Unfortunately, life is hard. Now, you know how it feels when someone loses a loved one. Because I really used to love you, Rose. But then you chose to be with him and look at him now, he’s abandoned you, Rose. He’s seeing someone else, just because you are not attractive anymore. I would have never done that to you, Rose. But it’s too late now, isn’t it?”
My breathing kept speeding up more and more dangerously. Charlie kept talking with the sole intent to hurt me and torment me. Never in my life have I experienced such a humiliating, heartbreaking, gruesome, hellish, malicious, fiendish, outrageous, inhumane nightmare. There are not enough words in the English language to describe what I was feeling.
“You should’ve never been with him, Rose. He wasn’t good for you and he was smearing you, but it’s ok. I have a little secret for you.” Charlie paused for a short while as he walked around the bed to the other side to whisper in my right ear again.
“I tried to set you free, Rose. I promise I never imagined things were going to end up like this. I never meant to hurt you. I threw those bottles because I wanted to set you free and I wanted you away from any filth in this cruel world. I threw the bottles because I love you, Rose.”
<You bastard. You killed my parents and you put me in this hospital bed for the rest of my possibly-short life. You robbed me of my sight, you denied movement to my limbs, you burned my skin and literally you transformed me into a freak. I cannot communicate, or walk, or see the sky, or laugh. You put me in the deepest misery anyone can possibly fathom. You are completely crazy, Charlie. And you are a murderer. Don’t you see all the suffering you have caused? And the death of two innocent people, don’t you see that? My parents had done nothing to you. You ‘re despicable, Charlie and I wish you burn in hell, just the way I burned.>
My breathing became so fast and my heart was pumping so hard in my chest that I could feel that something was wrong and that I was losing my frail life. Fortunately, I must have been attached to some kind of device that produced some kind of emergency beeping sound.

In a matter of seconds, the door flung open and some nurses darted into the room. One of them cried out: “Lucy, get Dr. Roberts! Marian, get the emergency trolley! Quick! And you mister, you were told she was extremely vulnerable, what have you done to her? Get out of here!”

I must’ve passed out. When I woke up, all I could see was the usual darkness and all I could hear was the usual wheezing sound of my breathing. I lay in that bed vegetating like I had done for God knows how many weeks, waiting for something to happen and praying that Charlie would never come back.

The door drew open and I heard footsteps coming in my direction. “Hello Rose.” It was my sister’s voice but this time she didn’t sound very cheery.
“Charlie has been arrested and accused of murder and attempted murder among other crimes. The story has made the front page of several papers. There’s enough evidence to charge him. The police thought it was murder from day one, there were several suspects so this room had been wired but I never told you anything because of health reasons, Rose. The police know everything he told you while he was here. He will pay for what he’s done to you, and for what he’s done to mum and dad.”
Then there was a pause. Again, that sixth sense was telling me something was wrong. I didn’t feel stared at. I just sensed Anne was looking down with her head bowed. She started weeping and never said a word for a few minutes. Then suddenly, she apologized: “I’m sorry. It’s just that I have something very important to tell you.” Then she drew nearer me. “Listen, Rose. You know I genuinely want the best for you. But I have been left with an important decision to make.” Then, Anne resumed her weeping but she kept talking and with a trembling voice added: “You are attached to a machine that keeps you alive. And it’s up to me to decide whether you should continue attached to it or disconnect it. I have spoken to several people about it, and everybody believes it would be best to end your suffering. But I believe the right thing to do is what you feel it’s best for you. I have given it a lot of thought and I decided I’m going to spend a lot of time with you for the next few days and maybe the two of us together can come up with a final decision.”

<There’s nothing to think about, sister. You have been good to me and some other people have been good also. But I don’t want to be a burden and I don’t want to suffer any more. I would never be able to talk to you or anyone. I would never be able to see the light again. I could never have children. And I could never have a normal life. Now I know what has happened to me and what has happened to mum and dad. I know who’s responsible for it. And even though I cannot communicate with you, I know for certain that you will do the right thing.>

The last day, my sister spent nearly the whole day with me. She had brought my favourite music and she talked and talked for hours. She strived to sound as cheerful as possible, but a flood of tears betrayed her. On my side, I was happy I was leaving this unfair world. And when the time came, the pain, the suffering, the agony were over for good and they were all replaced by colourless darkness and infinite nothingness.