1.
Someone’s hand was pounding on my chest. A light shined in my face. I heard people talking frantically. I couldn’t see them. My eyes were closed. I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming.
“Open your eyes! Miss? Answer me!”
My mind was spinning, spiraling. I felt as if I was drowning. I couldn’t breathe. Thoughts appeared like pictures on a screen from a slide tray. A pool. Dog. The ocean. A boat. Splashing water. Bikini. Birthday candles. Cake. Laughter. Tears. I’ve heard that your life flashes before your eyes in a split second. A split second, not a lot of time and perhaps all the time in the world.
“Morton, the-se are your hou-se keys.” It was my cousin, Clive. “Do you un-der-stand me?”
My lips were pulled apart and a thick gritty paste, cold and bland, poured through me.
“Swallow this or we’ll have to pump your stomach.” An unfamiliar voice. “It’s charcoal.”
“I’m le-aving your k-eys wi-th the nur-se.” I heard a ringing sound dangling above me. “I ha-ve a da-te to g-et ba-ck to.”
Clive spoke to me as if I were a young child, enunciating each syllable. Every word very carefully. Slowly. “Be- sides, yo-u look li-ke yo-u’re in goo-d han-ds.”
More liquid was forced down my throat. “She needs to sit up!”
“I can’t get her skirt off!”
“We’ll have to cut it!”
That much I understood. “Please don’t cut my skirt.”
“She sounds okay to me.” Clive’s voice.
Someone forced my skirt off. My bottom was touching the cold table. Thong underwear. How many people could see me? How many people were out there?
“Stop spitting up the charcoal!”
“What’s her name?!”
“Morton,” Clive told them. “Mason?”
“Morton! M—O—R—T—O—N.”
“Morton! MORTON! Can you hear me?!”
“Swallow, Morton, or I’m going to have to pump your stomach.”
“Stop spitting it up!”
“Swallow, Morton. That’s right. Keep swallowing.”
My mind was like a fog rolling across a landscape, grey and quiet. The spiraling had stopped. No more colored pictures. I lay on the cold table, eyes closed tight. I could feel tears roll down my temples to the back of my neck.
I was still alive.
“Open your eyes! Miss? Answer me!”
My mind was spinning, spiraling. I felt as if I was drowning. I couldn’t breathe. Thoughts appeared like pictures on a screen from a slide tray. A pool. Dog. The ocean. A boat. Splashing water. Bikini. Birthday candles. Cake. Laughter. Tears. I’ve heard that your life flashes before your eyes in a split second. A split second, not a lot of time and perhaps all the time in the world.
“Morton, the-se are your hou-se keys.” It was my cousin, Clive. “Do you un-der-stand me?”
My lips were pulled apart and a thick gritty paste, cold and bland, poured through me.
“Swallow this or we’ll have to pump your stomach.” An unfamiliar voice. “It’s charcoal.”
“I’m le-aving your k-eys wi-th the nur-se.” I heard a ringing sound dangling above me. “I ha-ve a da-te to g-et ba-ck to.”
Clive spoke to me as if I were a young child, enunciating each syllable. Every word very carefully. Slowly. “Be- sides, yo-u look li-ke yo-u’re in goo-d han-ds.”
More liquid was forced down my throat. “She needs to sit up!”
“I can’t get her skirt off!”
“We’ll have to cut it!”
That much I understood. “Please don’t cut my skirt.”
“She sounds okay to me.” Clive’s voice.
Someone forced my skirt off. My bottom was touching the cold table. Thong underwear. How many people could see me? How many people were out there?
“Stop spitting up the charcoal!”
“What’s her name?!”
“Morton,” Clive told them. “Mason?”
“Morton! M—O—R—T—O—N.”
“Morton! MORTON! Can you hear me?!”
“Swallow, Morton, or I’m going to have to pump your stomach.”
“Stop spitting it up!”
“Swallow, Morton. That’s right. Keep swallowing.”
My mind was like a fog rolling across a landscape, grey and quiet. The spiraling had stopped. No more colored pictures. I lay on the cold table, eyes closed tight. I could feel tears roll down my temples to the back of my neck.
I was still alive.