Looking through Glass

Darkness. Everywhere, darkness. I can't open my eyes! Why can't I open my eyes? My eyes feel like they're sewn shut, but I think they're just caked with something that's tearing out my eyelashes when I try to pry them open. Same difference in the moment, big difference in the end. My clumsy, cold fingertips claw at the crust until the tears flow freely and I can see reasonably well through the deluge.

Why is it so damned cold in here? And where is here, anyway?

The last thing I remember is leaving work and heading home, but the bright steel tables and tall cots tell me I'm in some sort of medical facility. The low lights make it hard to make out what manner of facility, exactly, but I suddenly become aware of the fact that I am naked. Not in a paper gown, not in scrubs, but fully open and vulnerable as a woman in a strange, less-than-hospitable place. Naked, afraid, alone, and freezing.

"Someone is getting sued."

I try to form the words in my mouth as well as my mind, but my lips won't move any easier than my eyes would when I first woke up. The crying has long since stopped, tears leaving their filmy, oily residue behind even after I blink. And again. Harder, still, and my vision is simply not coming into focus regardless of tears or tranquility.

Reeling, disoriented, I stretch my arms across my chest and tuck my knees upward. I could reach up to my mouth and remove the gunk sealing it shut like my eyes were sealed, but I need a moment to prepare for the possibilities. What if, crazy as it seems, it's not gunk holding my lips in place, but sutures? Could my mouth really be sewn shut and me not notice it until I tried to speak? That's just not possible.

Right?

Right.

But I still can't move my lips, though my jaw swings freely. My numbing fingertips brush an unfamiliar mound of flesh under my collarbone, but I can't focus on whatever that might be. First I have to confront the reality that my mouth has been sewn shut and it doesn't hurt unless I try to open my lips.

The growl from my stomach catches me by surprise. What kind of third rate hospital is this, anyway? I don't feel an IV, I haven't seen a nurse. Obviously, I was in a severe car accident and have been in some manner of coma. The crust on my eyes must have been some kind of allergic reaction to the horrific conditions. There should be a feeding tube in my nose, but instead this Texas Chainsaw quack has gone and sewn my mouth shut!

I slide from my place on a high cot to the floor and my legs give out under my weight, unaccustomed to such a laborious task as standing after who knows how long asleep. What day is it? What year is it? Panic rises in my chest as I lay on the cold, white-grey tile floor. It was winter when I left work, maybe I hit a patch of black ice. I can't remember. Why can't I remember?

The sudden motion triggers a security light, its brightness blinding me further for a moment. But even my damaged eye catches the tell-tale Y-shape to the wound in the stark reflection cast on the polished stone faces. I must have been hurt pretty bad if they needed to open up my chest. It's definitely been a major trauma that my brain deleted like it never happened, though.

Leaning onto one side, I tumble my fingers through my hairline. Once more they find a strip of sutures. The threads pierce upward into my fingers like shards of ice with the realization that only one process explains it all, but not why I'm here, breathing. Wait, am I breathing? I don't think I'm breathing.

Oh.