I know now what shadows can see
There's no point in running 'less you run with me
It's half the distance through the open door
Before you cut me down
Again
So let me introduce you to the end
--from Shackled by Vertical Horizon
Shadows. Darkness. Faces. Whispers. Pain. Lots of pain.
(ow god oh god this hurts)
His thoughts were still jumbled and fuzzy. He couldn't quite get his eyelids to flutter open; they seemed like ten-ton weights. He couldn't move, either -- and that scared him.
(god oh god this really hurts)
He could still hear, though. The voices floated around his ears teasingly, sometimes harsh whispers and sometimes soft murmurings. But always, always, they were quiet. As if it weren't bad enough that he couldn't see them, the owners of the voices didn't even have the courtesy to speak louder. That made him mad, but the thoughts of anger mixed with the thoughts of pain and that just gave him a headache -- more pain. And that made him feel bitter, angry and bitter and hurting until he just drifted off into a fitful sleep. Then the dreams he had would consist of bizarre images and twisted memories
(blood and shadows demons screaming voices watchful eyes looking at me only at me)
which frightened him so badly
(blood blood everywhere the stench of dying screams fire blazing out of control)
that he jolted back to consciousness, still unable to open his eyes. And the dreams always left him without a sense of completion, but with one unexplainable word: corn.
As time went by, the pain lessened -- bit by bit -- but he couldn't keep track of the days and that was yet another thing that made him mad. His thoughts and perception sharpened. He could tell when someone entered and when someone left, distinguished the voices from others. His resentment sharpened as well as his wit, but there was a tiny glimmer of hope -- and that gave him something to think about.
(Why won't my eyes open? Maybe today. Maybe I can open my eyes today and see the world. Maybe--)
And the darkness went on.
(Not today. Not ever. I'll never be able to see anything ever again. I'll spend the rest of my life in this damned darkness.)
And so did the dreams.
(Oh God, please, don't let it get me -- blood, blood, so much blood all over my hands -- I didn't set that fire. Who lit the fire? Why is the church burning? Oh God, oh God...)
And so did the pain.
(Why won't someone just kill me? Please, put me out of my misery... I don't want to be in this darkness any more. Please, please, please--)
Until one day
(Please, please, please--)
something clicked
(--oh God, please--)
and in the wonderfully bright hospital room
(Please!)
Micah Balding opened his eyes.