Page 1 of Sight Unseen

SIGHT UNSEEN

Chapter 1

Nate

Beep. Beep. Beep. Whirr. Hiss. Laughter and low voices. For a split second on waking, I imagined myself in some alternate universe, like a scene from a Wile E. Coyote cartoon where the sound effects were magnified for dramatic effect.

The clamor was unnerving and unfamiliar. I tried to sit up, got halfway then fell back against stiff, starched pillows, definitely not luxurious and soft with the scent of sex and male vanity: Jon’s Paco Rabanne or my Artisan.

My hip and left side ached, and something unfamiliar tugged at my wrist, causing a spike of pain. The room was black, no light or shadows anywhere.

“What the hell?” My question stuck and slurred from a bad case of Sahara dry mouth. I reached around with my good hand to find something familiar. My alarm clock at the side of our bed or the metal table lamp would go a long way to reassure me, and take away this feeling of being a stranger in a strange land. Groping, I managed to knock something off the cold surface of what was probably a bedside unit. Whatever it was fell to the floor with a resounding clatter.

My breathing sped up, the fear in my chest swelled like a sponge dropped in water. The beeping got louder, more strident.

Over the turmoil in my head, there was the soft shuffle of footsteps coming nearer. A strong hand tried to push me back onto the pillows as a female voice spoke soothingly. “Please relax, Mr. Powell. You’re safe, you’re in the hospital.” Her hands stroked my arms and I flailed wildly while trying to make sense of it all.

“Hospital? How can I be in the hospital? I don’t remember anything happening to me. Where am I, who are you? Where’s Jon? Cody? Let me get up—” Surely my boyfriend or best friend would tell me what the fuck was going on.

“Mr. Powell.” This tone was brisk, sharper and male. “Nurse Sandra is trying to help you. You’ve been out of it for a while. Lie back and try to calm down and I’ll explain it to you. But I need you to calm down, we don’t need any more damage being done.” There was a muted conversation I couldn’t make out as I pushed their hands away, trying to get these people from encroaching on my space.

“Fuck off, will you. Leave me alone, let me get up and see what’s going on. Why can’t I see anything? What do you mean damage? What have you done to me?”

My heart hammered against my chest, my breathing became even more erratic and when something warm flooded into my veins, a sense of peace and darkness overtook me and I spiraled down back into whatever hell I’d come from.

I was happy to leave. Where I was going had to be better than the world I faced while conscious.

***

“Nate, can you hear me? It’s Jon. I’m here. Are you awake? Can you see me?” Warm hands caressed my face as I dragged myself up from sleep tainted with fuzzy thoughts. My head was muggy, pounding and it was still dark.

I groaned and reached out to the voice beside me. “Jon?” I needed my lover’s comforting and familiar touch.

“Yeah, Nate, it’s me. The doctor says you went a bit ballistic earlier so they gave you something to calm you down. It will make you feel a bit drowsy, maybe a bit sick. If you feel like vomiting, tell me and I’ll call the nurse.”

His hands were on mine, soft and soothing.

I sighed. “Okay. Why is there a doctor involved? What happened to me?”

His silence made my skin prickle.

“Jon, you still there?” Stupid question. I could still feel his hand in mine but I couldn’t see anything.

Finally, he said, “I’m here. You don’t remember anything about the accident or coming to the hospital two days ago? Can you see me?”

I shook my head slowly and tried to wave my right hand toward his voice, but a stinging sensation zinged through my veins. A strong grip stayed my arm.

“Nate, you have a drip in your hand. Don’t pull it loose like last time or the nurse will have to plug you back in. Just keep still and I’ll try to explain.”

“Why can’t I see?” Panic spiralled down my spine. “What day is it? What do you mean, two days ago?”

“It’s Sunday, June twelfth, Nate. Do you remember being at the Gravity Awards ceremony Friday night?”

I nodded and wished I hadn’t as my brain exploded. “I remember—some of it.” Vague memories swam around my brain of being up on stage accepting an award then the open-to-the-public after-party. I had a hazy recollection of drinking alcohol, gyrating on a dance floor and having a vicious argument with Jon’s ex-boyfriend who’d appeared to be on a mission to win Jon back.

“We argued about Caleb touching you all the time,” I croaked through my ever-present parched throat. “I remember that asshole’s face being in mine and wanting to punch it.” Someone huffed loudly and I looked across the room in that direction.

“Was my head damaged? Have I got bandages over my eyes? Is that why I can’t see anything?”