After I Wake

Published by

H
ARMONY
I
NK
P
RESS

5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886  USA

[email protected]
•
http://harmonyinkpress.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

After I Wake

© 2015 Emma Griffiths.

Cover Art

© 2015 Bree Archer.

http://www.breearcher.com.

Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Harmony Ink Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or [email protected]

ISBN: 978-1-63476-029-4

Library Edition ISBN: 978-1-63476-030-0

Digital ISBN: 978-1-63476-031-7

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015930665

First Edition May 2015

Library Edition August 2015

Printed in the United States of America

This paper meets the requirements of

ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (Permanence of Paper).

To everyone who fought depression and won, to those who lost, and to those who are still fighting. Stay strong.

 

 

I want to start by thanking everyone who made this possible, and there are so many people to thank, starting with my sophomore English teacher Mr. Degnan, for assigning us a creative writing project that laid the groundwork for this book. Without that first project we did, this story never would have gotten told. I'd also like to thank two other English teachers, Mr. DiBernardo and Mr. Moore, for all of their help and editing advice during writing club. My parents, for their endless support of my creative pursuits and for believing I could get this published. There are a few people who need thanking by name for their advice on some of the earliest drafts and for correcting my mistakes: Zara, Darby, Tom, Nora, and Hannah, thank you. My friends in the Avengers Against Humanity, though we met after the book was finished, your cheering me on during the long process of sending out queries and receiving rejections kept me laughing. I need to thank everyone at Harmony Ink Press for believing in my story and helping to make it better, thank you all so much for giving my story an audience. Thank you to all of the readers. I hope you enjoy the story.

 

 

TRIGGER WARNING: I'd like to preface by saying that this is a story of recovery and that it is entirely fictional. However, it does contain graphic elements, including self-harm, depression, and a suicide attempt. If such matter is something that may trigger you or make you uncomfortable, please proceed with caution. The absolute last thing I want to do is hurt anyone. If you plan to proceed, please note that the story is meant to illustrate the main character's drive to get better. But please, put yourself first.

 

 

I
THINK
I've been asleep. I've been doing that a lot lately. I've turned the craft of avoiding people into a fine art. Sleeping seems plausible right now because I'm tired and I really don't want to move, because I'm in the postsleep phase where I'm only kind of awake. It would be incredibly easy to go back to sleep, but I could also get up, even though that would be both harder to do and incredibly annoying, because I'm still too entrenched in that sleepy state where I'd rather be because it's like being a child again and the Earth isn't real and nothing really matters because there is no logic in a dream and the only thing that is real is your freedom. That's where I'd like to go, but something is dragging me out of all of that, and I do not like it, but there is more wakefulness to me than there was only moments ago, and so I must get up.

It's really unfortunate when that happens.

I'm not in my bed. That's the next thing I become aware of as my consciousness slips back and my world refocuses. The sheets are too scratchy, the blanket covering me is heavy and cumbersome, and the mattress smells of cleanliness as opposed to mine that smells like home, familiar and lived-in. I have no idea where I am. My eyes flicker open, and I am ambushed by painfully bright lights. I blink a couple of times, trying to adjust.

With the immediate challenges of first waking up and having no idea what the hell is going on out of the way, I try to figure out exactly where I am. But judging by the bed on which I'm sprawled and the air that is filled with dust motes glinting in the sun and the gentle beeping forcing its way into my attention, I'm in the hospital. Again. I groan loudly and close my eyes, pressing the lids together as hard as I can, rubbing my eyes hard enough to see stars floating, swirling gently about, behind my closed lids. My wrist twinges vaguely in pain, the skin not happy with being pulled. Something beeps, and I hear footsteps.

They're watching me
. I blink. I have no idea where that thought came from.

I wonder how I even got here. I never learned to drive, haven't ridden my bike in years, and don't cross the highway. Something has to have come up. There's a logical solution, but I'm still a little trapped in the abyss of sleep, and I know I'm missing the final piece of the puzzle.

I think I can justifiably say that I am very confused.

It's hard to move. I'm tired and stiff. I've probably been sleeping for a while. The bed is narrow, and I'm on my back, but I sleep on my side. There's an IV protruding from my arm, and the beeping that shatters the peace stems from something that's taking my pulse. It's all dreadfully familiar and not an experience I wanted to repeat.

As remnants of memory slide back and click into place, I blink, doing my best to focus in my groggy state, watching experiences of the past months sharpen and contrast, and the bright emotions dominate the murky thoughts of my brain.

Then when I seize the moment that brought me here, what I did and why I am in the hospital, after the initial flurry of memories has passed, my arms tingle in a sudden realization, and I glance toward my wrists and an all-too-familiar chill finds its way into the pit of my stomach before coursing throughout the rest of my body. I groan again but this time in utter frustration when I realize again I'm a failure.

The pristine gauze has slipped free from my wrists, exposing the hideous black stitches that grin at me as they hold my veins together, proudly keeping me alive.

 

 

IM
COLD
and its cold

and im really fucking cold and i want to sleep

and its numb and its cold and ohmygod am i breathing what's that smell oh it's vomit oh it's mine

and dear lord its so cold and goddammit and where am i—oh the snow is so pretty

i think ill sleep now. yes i will sleep in my winter palace

up up im going up why are they taking me thats my river

im weightless and flying and—is that how i look

oh im free and im bouncing—bouncing and rolling

down down i go—their noises hurt my ears

and slamming and strapped in oh lights are flashing are those sirens and whats that darkness

im just going to sleep again. whats in my arm whats on my face

“She's not breathing.”

“She's flatlining.”

“…cardiac arrest.”

“Standby.”

“Clear.”
Lightning flashes

Ow it hurtsithurtsithurtsithurts make it stop. makeitstop.

“We can get her back.”

“She's too young, goddamn it.”

“Stay with me, Carter!”

“Standby.”

“Clear.”

more more more lightning flashes and it hurts and where am i

is that me like that

and why wont they let me go back to sleep

and leave me alone it hurts.

pleaseplease leave me alone

my hand my hand my hand where has it gotten to

everythinghurtsandwhywon'ttheyletmesleep

oh, never mind.

good night

 

 

I'
M
DRAINED
,

Utterly drained

It's too hard to think,

My head is so full of cotton

As I swim on the brink of consciousness

I cannot move—

My bones are made of ice

and my limbs are weighted with lead

I am left to struggle against unseen

Bonds which I know nothing of

And I want this, this

Agony—

To end

So I let it

Finding an escape

In sleep—

Withdrawing