Journals 1 and 2 - Wk 14

His vision came into focus; Adam was in a St. Francis Hospital room--he could recognize this plain room anywhere. Its walls were layered with thick white paint; the floor a checkered orchestra of tile; there was but a single window for eyes to gaze from; and a single door through which people could enter or escape. That room couldn’t get any more vanilla. A hissing soared in the air as the clicking and clanging of machinery nearby announced itself to his ears, and the air smelled a bit like lotion. Wait, why was he there?

“Ah, what happened...?” he heard himself ask the white void engulfing him.

He hadn’t expected the humming noise of machines to be usurped so soon.

“You were in an accident, you see,”  the words struck. The voice was fairly regular, but sounded young. 

Adam impulsively snapped his eyes around the room once more, hoping to see where he hadn’t seen someone. As his eyes trailed toward the left side, he saw a boy, seated in a chair practically adjacent to the bed. How hadn’t Adam noticed him earlier? The boy was draped in a brilliant red sweatshirt, complemented by a mellow, black pair of sweatpants and a plastic-looking shoe pair. The boy’s brown eyes were conspicuous against his ghostly pigment, like Myers in the mask; and his brown hair was of above average length, albeit subtly. Somehow, Adam thought, the boy seemed unnervingly familiar, yet he couldn’t place him.

Ignoring that for the moment, he questioned: “Accident? What accident?”

The boy paused and thought, leaving Adam feeling amiss.

At last, “Hmm, a car accident.”

“A ‘car accident’...?” he beckoned. For the first time in their exchange, Adam took note of the boy’s age; he couldn’t have been that much older than himself--ah, but then Adam took note of his own age, he was… older? His voice was deeper now; so that boy was about the same age?

“That’s right. I’m Isaac, by the way,” the boy introduced. Isaac?

Sure, the name was familiar, but still Adam silently contemplated Isaac’s presence. For what purpose, exactly, was he there? Where were Adam’s family and friends? Who were they, even? How long had he been there?

“Isaac…, I see,” he acknowledged. “I… do I know you?”

A laugh reflected Isaac’s answer. “Maybe? Maybe I’m a total stranger, or someone dangerous!” he said jokingly.

Something washed over Adam like an ocean wave; except the taste wasn’t of familiar salt, but alien fear. For reasons Adam couldn’t identify, Isaac’s words didn’t seem that unlikely; a teenager at best speaking to a stranger in such a way--even if sarcastically--required nerve. Isaac’s showing smile glorified the feeling. How did he know him?

The latter continued, “It’s a miracle you survived, though. Anyone else in that car probably would’ve been killed from the collision.”

Adam nodded. “Okay, then. Ah, how old are you, Isaac?”
“Seventeen! A year older than you, amigo.”

Right away Adam grew curious. Huh? He recalled the number, but Adam was surely older than sixteen now.

“Isaac, how do you know me? I don’t remember you at all.”

“Hm? Why, I don’t want to spoil the fun!” replied Isaac.

With the blood in his veins did subtle anger flow, “That’s… you just seem so familiar, but I can’t remember you. I can’t place anyone or anything….”

A sigh escaped Isaac’s lips, and his smile took the opposite form. For a while they sat there, as though they were the only two beings in the universe.

Before Adam could say any more, a click shattered the still frame of air as the room’s door opened. Entered a doctor, whose apparel was a cliché one: tall white coat accompanied by gloves and stethoscope; he looked old, grey hair indicative. Once his eyes fell on Adam, the semi-wrinkled face was thrust into the shape of a smile.

“Adam…? You’ve woken up! At last!” the doctor exclaimed, before rushing over to the bedside, checking Adam’s pulse. At last? His curiosity all but jumped through his skin while he ignored the fingers being pressed into his neck. He analyzed the doctor; uneven pens in coat pocket, and the letters “Dr. Lavett” were plastered through lamination.

Courage found his vocal cords. “How long have I been here?” 

Once satisfied with Adam’s pulse, Dr. Lavett spoke as he checked with a stethoscope, cool surface riveting Adam’s skin.
“First of all, I’m Dr. Lavett. Secondly, you were in a comatose state for over a year, after being rolled in from a nasty car crash.”

The timeframe dawned on him; suddenly his own age made sense.
“A year…?! In a coma?! W-where are m--”

“Shh,” Lavett hushed him, “You’re very lucky. Had you not been wearing a seatbelt, you’d have been killed, too. I’ll see that your parents are contacted once I’m finished here. I know you have questions Adam, but I can’t answer them all right now.”

Too? Adam realized, ignoring the latter sentences.

He swallowed his fear of the notion, and almost insisted with his voice alone that an answer was needed immediately. “S-someone was killed?”

The cubic space of the hospital room now felt smaller, suffocating--then and only then did Adam realize that someone was missing from the conversation. Shouldn’t Isaac have introduced himself to Lavett? Shouldn’t the doctor have acknowledged Isaac being there? Ah, it was just Adam and the doctor there? What? 

He looked around, and noted the lack of a certain red, vibrant personality. “No….”

“Yes, Adam…. Isaac Porter was in the passenger’s seat of the car, and... killed on impact--Isaac. I was told you were driving to a fair.”
“Isaac…?”
“....”

It all froze at once--time, noise; everything. Adam agreed that since Lavett entered, there was no trace of the teen from earlier. As if that fact were the key piece, Adam’s dam of amnesia began to crack; quickly collapsing whence his memories flooded through. It was overwhelming, like a collage full of colorful images being sewn into a small pocket-hole of the universe. But it was indeed Adam’s own stubbornness that led to the car ride. If I had just been mature….

Too late to stop it, guilt had its firm grasp on Adam’s heart; tightening with each tear that stained his face. Wrong he wasn’t, to say that the world is cruel. To say that it was his own fault for letting the cruel world have its way, he wasn’t wrong. Cursing the cruelty of the world, the sobs he emitted had driven the doctor to turn toward the door. Before the doctor could slip away, Adam spoke up.

“W-wait, doctor.”

Lavett halted, turning to face him. “Yes, Adam?”

“I… I think I’m having hallucinations.”

I posted this for discussion board three as well, because I revised it with both boards in mind! I know it's technically not starting a whole new passage, but it's been a couple of years since I looked at this, and it was originally just a paragraph in length. I've been trying to come up with a good idea for a narrative involving person vs. self, where "self" is represented by hallucinations. I've also been contemplating some good old-fashioned time travel, which I think this plot could pave the way to.

Screenshot of "cloud" thought process: http://prntscr.com/sh2we6