I squint at the doctor in front of me. He has to be the 4th or 5th I've seen now. My fingers knot themselves nervously while he reads over the test results. The older man sighs and shifts uncomfortably in his chair. My gut clenches and I already know the results aren't what we hoped.
"Miss Williams," Dr. Garrison starts, "the results... show no progression towards recovery. I'm afraid that your condition has worsened."
My breath catches and I take a few seconds to respond. "But... is there anything that can be done to help or to at least keep it from worsening?"
"I am terribly sorry, Miss Williams, but the damage is leaning towards unrepairable. The concussion you acquired was far worse than anyone suspected. It has caused severe optic nerve damage-"
"I'm already aware of that. Just, please, get to what I don't know."
Pity shines in his eyes. "Sarah, it caused some damage to your central nervous system."
I turn my gaze to lap. I can barely see my hands clearly, anymore. "How much damage?"
"The blow inflicted hit at the base of your skull. It caused your brain to swell up and it also struck the top of your spinal column. The uncontrollable twitching, loss of feeling, and lack of response in your limbs are the result of that. I'm afraid it's getting worse."
"Can we make it better?" I ask even though I know that the odds are not in my favor.
"It is operable," Dr. Garrison holds up a hand to stop my reply. "But, Sarah, the odds are that the operation would do far more damage than good."
"And by that you mean?"
"It could leave you as a vegetable, in a coma, or even dead."
My eyelids slide shut to trap the tears in. I refuse to cry just yet. "What is going to happen if we don't do anything?"
"I'll put you on medication to help the headaches and to help you keep control of your limbs. I'll also prescribe something to help you sleep, just in case. The damage will eventually result in you losing your eyesight and then the damage to your spine will result in you losing your motor skills. Then, I assume that your organs will begin shutting down – if you do not fall into a coma first. This could all happen from 4 weeks to 6 months from now." His voice is soft and full of compassion, but that doesn't make the information any less crushing.
"I see," I mumble. I open tearless eyes and meet his gaze. "I think... that we'll go with that option."
He reaches for my hand, but I flinch and he retreats. "I'm so sorry that I cannot save you, Sarah. But I swear I will try to keep you as comfortable as possible until the end."
"Thank you," I reply. Standing, I grab my bag. "Can we, um, do the paperwork next week? I'd like to go home at the moment."
The kind doctor nods and I walk out the door, acting as if he did not see the tears about to fall from his eyes.
The drive back to my apartment is uneventful; I am numb. I climb the stairs and then fumble to open my door. The keys rattle as I drop them and my bag on the floor. I head to my room and stare down at my bed. Sobs rack through my body as I turn and slam the boxes on top of my art desk to the floor. I walk to my closet and begin yanking things out. Forgotten items scatter across the carpet and I claw through the boxes there. My sobs quiet and I stand and look at the collected items of my life.
It is soon too much for me to bear. I walk to the liquor cabinet I keep mostly for show and yank open the stubborn doors. Without even bothering to see which bottle I've grabbed, I yank the top off and start drinking. The liquid burns down my throat at first, but with each sip I notice it less and less. The already blurry room blurs more with the liquor. I stumble back to my room after I've gotten half-way through the bottle.
A red, glittery jewelry box lies on its side by the foot of my bed. I flop beside it and lean against my bed. Reluctantly, I set my bottle beside me and pick up the box. When I open it I see a familiar leather-bound book. I run my fingers over the golden letters on it's cover. I haven't thought of this book in a long, long time. I used to read this to Toby all the time.
I hiccup and lean over to grab a sheet of paper and a pen. Toby. Tears run afresh down my cheeks as I write him a goodbye letter. I tape it to the book and lay it on my bed. He doesn't need it yet, but I'll keep it there for him to find.
"Oh, Toby, I'm so sorry." I sigh. "I wish I were taken away from here." I slur.
Now that I've seen the book, my thoughts sluggishly flicker to a dream I once had – almost 7 years ago - involving a similar story to the Labyrinth. I remember the Goblin King as if he were in front of me. With his devilishly handsome face and his dual colored eyes. It's almost as if he's here, staring at me with that cruel face of his.
I stumble over to a window that has somehow been blown open. A sudden winds makes it harder to close, but I manage somehow. I reach down and grab my bottle from the floor. My thoughts are more sluggish by the second. I decide the bottle can wait until the morning and I take a final gulp. My legs are like rubber as I head back to the liquor cabinet in my tiny dining room.
I sway in front of the cabinet. The floor looks extremely inviting right now...
"Sarah?"
I spin around and nearly fall. That voice; I know that voice. Only after steadying myself by holding on to the back of a dining chair do I look up.
"Wha- what are-" I hiccup and squint at the Goblin King. His stern face holds part amusement and part annoyance as he looks me up and down.
"Time has not done you any good," He remarks in a cold tone and a smirk to match it.
"Why..." I squint harder at him. My brain is slow with drunken stupor. "Why are you here?"
His face hardens into an even colder expression. "You wished yourself away."
Giggles erupt from me unexpectedly. "Yeah, right." I let myself slide to the floor and look up at him. "You're just a dream. You were always a dream and you will always be a dream. That, or you are a hallucination." I giggle again and say, "It is a symptom of my condition." My brain fogs up more and I know that I am close to passing out.
Confusion replaces the cold emotion on the Goblin King's face. "Condition?"
My vision wavers and my head lolls. I can vaguely make out Jareth as he reaches to keep me from thumping to the floor. This is one of the funniest dreams I've had in a while, I think to myself as I start to lose feeling in my limbs. Or should I call it a hallucination? I have the oddest feeling, like I've been spinning in circles for too long.
Just when the feeling stops and I'm tottering on the edge of subconscious, I hear that ever-familiar voice sigh, "Sarah... What am I to do with you?"
And then I don't think anymore for a while.
