[Author's Note: Thanks for reading my story guys. Much more on the way =)]
*But once I hold on
I won't let go still it bleeds..*
The fog was still there. It had never left him, but he didn't want it to leave. It was too comforting, like a big puffy blanket protecting him. Protecting him from the lightning bolts.
Through the fog he spotted two moving figures. One of them was dressed all in white from what he could see male, and the other one had long blonde hair and he guessed was a female. The two talked in conversation and Harry lost interest and his eyes wandered around. His head then fell to the left side, stuck there was if he were on the 'Gravitron' ride at the fair again.
He was in a bed. Not only was the fog a puffy blanket, he could feel a blanket over his legs as well.
A white room; such a clean room. This didn't look like his apartment. It was much too white for that.
His memory along with his sight was foggy. Why was he in this white room with the white man and the blonde woman? Had he died? Was he in Heaven? ( '..gutting him with a dull pencil..' ) Oh that was right. He didn't believe in any of that stuff anymore. But why?
He couldn't remember. Harry put his head straight again staring at the superwhite ceiling. It would come to him. It always did.
Someone blocked his view. It was the man all in white. Harry shifted his eyes upwards but was unable to focus on the man's face.
"Mr. Senate, do you know where you are," a faraway robot voice sounded.
Harry tried to lift his arms but surprisingly found that he could not. Why weren't his arms raising? Were they broken? In 200 pound casts? Or God forbid - non existent?
He tried to lift them again in a slight panic. Restraints. He could feel the tight leather buckles gripping at his wrists.
His desperate eyes looked back at the white man as he still tried to focus on his face.
"We had to sedate and restrain you Mr. Senate; you were quite violent," the white man answered his pleading, questionable eyes.
Harry looked over to the right of him. It was Ronnie. He didn't need to focus her face; her outline had told him. One of her hands was resting on his right forearm. It was cold.
"Harry, are you okay? How do you feel?" she asked softly, and then was unsure if he had even heard her from the still confused look on his face. When he didn't respond, the man in white did.
"He's somewhere far away. Come, he must rest," the white man took Ronnie by the shoulder and escorted the doubtful blonde out of the room.
Where was he? A hospital? He had concluded that. But what kind of hospital was he in? Why was his vision so foggy like there was a thin, cloudy film over his eyes?
He had been sedated. He had been violent? When? It was coming back to him slowly. His last memory being in his classroom teaching his students, with his arch enemy. The only enemy that he couldn't punch or even stab, or shoot.. The internal pain. The headache that laughed at him with each throb. He remembered the magic pills he had swallowed..-
-He suddenly searched for his headache, concentrating and looking for pain. Nothing. It was gone. The bitch was actually gone.
"The bitch is gone," Harry said aloud but it only sounded as a strange whisper. He went to raise his arms, but they were caught by the buckles that held his wrists down to the bed.
It angered Harry. Being restrained. He was obviously okay now, why not at least loosen the grip?
After a few seconds he noticed that not only his wrists were buckles down, but his ankles too. Ronnie had let them to this.
"Ronnie," he then called. The room's door was open, but he wasn't sure how far away she was then. "Ronnie!" he significantly raised his voice, now feeling the power back in his vocal cords.
A figure entered his room. It wasn't Ronnie, but the strange man in white. His vision was clearing up and he could now make out even the small birthmark on the man's lower forehead.
"Who are you? Where am I? What happened? Where's Ronnie?" Harry tried to sit up and his arms tensed again. jangling the restraints connected to the bars alongside the bed. The man did not even seem to hear the man in the bed before him as he pulled a syringe out of his white jacket. He tested and tapped the needle and then slowly rolled up Harry's gown sleeve.
"Somebody is acting..violent.. again.." the man said. Harry struggled again and looked at his left arm in horror ad the man stabbed the needle directly into his bicep.
Pain radiated up and down his arm and he didn't know whether it was because of what he had been injected with, or the fact that he had tensed up his arm. But he had no time to contemplate it either. The fog had come back, and thicker this time.
"Night, night, Harry," the man's voice said through the fog and Harry drifted off into an un-satisfactory, nightmare filled slumber.
*But once I hold on
I won't let go still it bleeds..*
The fog was still there. It had never left him, but he didn't want it to leave. It was too comforting, like a big puffy blanket protecting him. Protecting him from the lightning bolts.
Through the fog he spotted two moving figures. One of them was dressed all in white from what he could see male, and the other one had long blonde hair and he guessed was a female. The two talked in conversation and Harry lost interest and his eyes wandered around. His head then fell to the left side, stuck there was if he were on the 'Gravitron' ride at the fair again.
He was in a bed. Not only was the fog a puffy blanket, he could feel a blanket over his legs as well.
A white room; such a clean room. This didn't look like his apartment. It was much too white for that.
His memory along with his sight was foggy. Why was he in this white room with the white man and the blonde woman? Had he died? Was he in Heaven? ( '..gutting him with a dull pencil..' ) Oh that was right. He didn't believe in any of that stuff anymore. But why?
He couldn't remember. Harry put his head straight again staring at the superwhite ceiling. It would come to him. It always did.
Someone blocked his view. It was the man all in white. Harry shifted his eyes upwards but was unable to focus on the man's face.
"Mr. Senate, do you know where you are," a faraway robot voice sounded.
Harry tried to lift his arms but surprisingly found that he could not. Why weren't his arms raising? Were they broken? In 200 pound casts? Or God forbid - non existent?
He tried to lift them again in a slight panic. Restraints. He could feel the tight leather buckles gripping at his wrists.
His desperate eyes looked back at the white man as he still tried to focus on his face.
"We had to sedate and restrain you Mr. Senate; you were quite violent," the white man answered his pleading, questionable eyes.
Harry looked over to the right of him. It was Ronnie. He didn't need to focus her face; her outline had told him. One of her hands was resting on his right forearm. It was cold.
"Harry, are you okay? How do you feel?" she asked softly, and then was unsure if he had even heard her from the still confused look on his face. When he didn't respond, the man in white did.
"He's somewhere far away. Come, he must rest," the white man took Ronnie by the shoulder and escorted the doubtful blonde out of the room.
Where was he? A hospital? He had concluded that. But what kind of hospital was he in? Why was his vision so foggy like there was a thin, cloudy film over his eyes?
He had been sedated. He had been violent? When? It was coming back to him slowly. His last memory being in his classroom teaching his students, with his arch enemy. The only enemy that he couldn't punch or even stab, or shoot.. The internal pain. The headache that laughed at him with each throb. He remembered the magic pills he had swallowed..-
-He suddenly searched for his headache, concentrating and looking for pain. Nothing. It was gone. The bitch was actually gone.
"The bitch is gone," Harry said aloud but it only sounded as a strange whisper. He went to raise his arms, but they were caught by the buckles that held his wrists down to the bed.
It angered Harry. Being restrained. He was obviously okay now, why not at least loosen the grip?
After a few seconds he noticed that not only his wrists were buckles down, but his ankles too. Ronnie had let them to this.
"Ronnie," he then called. The room's door was open, but he wasn't sure how far away she was then. "Ronnie!" he significantly raised his voice, now feeling the power back in his vocal cords.
A figure entered his room. It wasn't Ronnie, but the strange man in white. His vision was clearing up and he could now make out even the small birthmark on the man's lower forehead.
"Who are you? Where am I? What happened? Where's Ronnie?" Harry tried to sit up and his arms tensed again. jangling the restraints connected to the bars alongside the bed. The man did not even seem to hear the man in the bed before him as he pulled a syringe out of his white jacket. He tested and tapped the needle and then slowly rolled up Harry's gown sleeve.
"Somebody is acting..violent.. again.." the man said. Harry struggled again and looked at his left arm in horror ad the man stabbed the needle directly into his bicep.
Pain radiated up and down his arm and he didn't know whether it was because of what he had been injected with, or the fact that he had tensed up his arm. But he had no time to contemplate it either. The fog had come back, and thicker this time.
"Night, night, Harry," the man's voice said through the fog and Harry drifted off into an un-satisfactory, nightmare filled slumber.