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I want to freak out. I want to yank off the wires and sensors off my body and throw whatever IV meds they’re forcing into my veins across the room. I want to scream and panic. Most of all I want to run. But I force myself to stay calm and I don’t move a muscle. I’m not certain I can move my head.
There are five men in the room, all in various states of sleep or distraction, sitting in chairs surrounding my hospital bed. I don’t know who they are or why they’re here, possibly keeping guard so I don’t escape.
But escape from what, I don’t know. My head is so fuzzy, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be escaping or why, only that I need to run. Now. My fear causes the monitors to beep faster and louder as my eyes dart around the room.
One of the men notices I’m awake. A tattooed hand reaches for me and makes soothing sounds. I recoil from his touch, terror like ice in my veins. He doesn’t try to touch me again, but his low, soothing voice coaxes me to look up. I don’t know why, but his deep green gaze consoles me enough to relax and try to think more clearly.
I recognize this man, and I feel less threatened. Briefly, I allow my eyes to roam around the room, returning my gaze to him.
“How do you feel?” His voice is low and calming. “Is your head okay?”
My head? Bandages. My head is covered in bandages.
“Where am I?” I whisper to him.
“You’re in the hospital. Do you remember how you got here?” He questions me slowly and quietly, either he’s trying not to frighten me, or he doesn’t want to wake the others either. I blink rapidly, trying to process his question.
“I don’t remember…anything.” My chest tightens, my heart working to climb out through my throat. The machine beeps erratically again.
I truly don’t remember anything. I’m like a blank slate. The only thing I can grasp is that I may be in some kind of trouble, but for what I don’t know. I don’t know where I am, or how I got here… or who I am. My heart races even harder and I feel dizzy with panic.
The man shifts forward, closing the distance and tentatively placing his hand on mine.
“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay. Don’t panic. It’s all going to be alright.” I stare at his hand touching mine for a moment, the dark greens and blues of his tattoos covering his hand down past his knuckles.
Movement from the end of my bed startles me.
“Don’t wake them, please. I won’t try to escape, I promise.” I look at him with pleading eyes. I don’t know why, but I trust this man, this stranger. Maybe he’ll help me escape.
A curious, maybe pitying look crosses his features as he looks over to another one of the men, who has now woken up and is sitting forward. This man has lighter skin and shaggy hair that he rakes his hands through. He reaches out a hand as if he might place it on my leg, but thinks better of it and places it in his lap, offering me a small smile instead.
I track the movement of his hand, afraid of being touched. But his eyes lock on mine, the green so similar to the other man’s, and I feel immediately calmer again. We stare at each other for a few moments, but then I look over at the other men who are all now awake.
My mind starts to clear and I’m questioning if any of them actually are guards. None of them are wearing uniforms of any type, and all of them have tags that say “Visitor, Room 306”. They are all watching me with varying looks of concern or worry.
Why did I think they were guards?
All of them are looking back at me expectantly, while I stare back into each and every one of their eyes and know these men are somehow precious to me.
I know they are precious and important - but I also have no idea who they are, where I am, how I got here… or who I am.
How can I not know who I am?!
They must sense my panic and confusion rising again, because every one of them takes a step closer to me, reaching out to place a hand close to me. Awkwardly, they all realize they’ve moved at the same time, and pull their hands back. There is some shuffling and low muttered apologies before one of them speaks.
“How are you feeling?” One of the men looks over my monitors and back at me. He smiles, although his amber eyes look a little unsure.
“I don’t… I don’t know how I got here and I don’t know who you are, I’m sorry, I… I just don’t know.” My eyes fill with tears. My mind races as I try to work out the depths of my confusion, but it only makes it worse. The monitor beeps loudly as my heart rate increases, dizziness clouds my vision.
“It’s okay, it’ll be okay,” the shaggy-haired white guy reassures me. The tattooed one grabs my hand again, and the sharp-dressed man steps into the hall to find a nurse or doctor.
Moments later, a nurse in green scrubs comes in. She checks all of my vitals, and shines a tiny penlight at my eyes, making me follow her finger. She asks me a few questions, including what my name is, and what day it is. When I don’t know the answers to those questions, she follows up by holding up fingers and asking me to count and identify colors. She makes some notes and tells us she’ll be right back with one of the doctors.
There’s an uncomfortable silence while we wait, but the super tall, pale guy thankfully fills with introductions. He tells me his name is Lukas and gestures to each of the men in turn, and they each introduce themselves.
I try to catalog all of their features and absorb their names, a little fearful of the information slipping away from me again.
Lukas is super tall and has pale skin, with sunken blue eyes behind dark frames, and dirty blonde hair that touches below his ears. The man I first woke up to is Luis. He is covered arm to neck in tattoos, with deep green eyes, olive skin, and rich brown hair. To his right stands Bennet, tall and sharply dressed, with dark hooded eyes, tan skin, and dark hair. Next to him is the second green-eyed man, with dust in his shaggy dark hair and sun-kissed skin, an orange vest folded over his lap. And lastly a broad-shouldered man with dark brown skin, closely cropped black hair, and kind, amber eyes.
