Chapter Four: Hazy
The agonizing pain coursing through his right arm causes him to regain a state of semi-consciousness. He remembers entering the abandoned apartment, puking his guts out, then passing out. Merle tries to open his eyes but his eyelids feel far too heavy to simply be thin layers of skin. Even though his mind is foggy, he suddenly detects the presence of another person nearby, therefore he decides to keep his eyes shut in order to feign sleep and have a little more time to figure things out before the person determines he is awake.
Merle knows he is no longer lying on the kitchen floor because the material underneath him is soft, like some sort of foam mattress pad, and he can feel a light sheet draped over his body. The apartment he had climbed into was stuffy and had the scent that only occurred when a room was kept closed for an extended period of time. Where ever he presently rested gave no such impression to his olfactory nerve. In fact, he can detect a faint odour of antiseptic and wonders if he somehow managed to end up in a hospital. He can feel something wrapped around his left wrist and subtly moves his arm, immediately meeting resistance. He grinds his teeth at the notion of being some dumb asses' prisoner. He begins to think of ways to break free from his restraint and how to overpower his guard. Merle almost lets a smirk sneak onto his face. If only that guy knew about the world of hurt coming his way for tying him up like some rabid dog. Merle suddenly begins to shiver and it dawns on him that he is feverish. His spastic movements cause his right arm to flail and it is only after he smashes the tender stump against his body that he notices it has been bandaged. An overpowering, overwhelming burning sensation suddenly radiates up his right arm and Merle uses every ounce of his willpower to stop himself from crying out loud but still ends up emitting a stifled guttural grunt.
His utterance draws the guard's attention. A male voice calls out, "Hey Mitch… I think he might be waking up. He looks like he might be in pain, keeps grinding his teeth and just made some sort of moaning sound. Fever probably spiked again too, looks flushed."
Even though Merle's senses are dulled from the infection raging within his body, dehydration, and exhaustion, he is still able to detect when another person walks into this makeshift prison cell/hospital room. He feels something gently tug on his left forearm and it is only then that he realizes cool fluids have been running into his body through an intravenous line. Numerous past emergency room visits requiring IV drugs gave him the experience necessary to determine what was going on. Having fluids pumped into you gives a specific sensation a person never quite forgets. He could feel the newest arrival fumbling with the tubing and he knew exactly what was going to happen next. He was going to get his high after all.
He feels a slight burning to the site where the needle penetrated his body and enters the vein. He wants to smile as he anticipates the unfolding events, but remains stoic, still not knowing who these strangers are and what their intentions might be. Then it hits him, that glorious rush he always felt every time and with every drug he ever smoked, snorted, or shot up with. It pleasantly invades his head and causes a warmth to course through his body. He wasn't sure exactly what drug had just been injected into him but he figures it was an opioid of some sort, morphine, dilaudid, maybe fentanyl. Regardless, he is grateful for it. The pain which had previously been invading his entirety soon dissipates, his worries seemingly having went with it, and Merle drifts off into unconsciousness once again.