One Terrifying Hangover.
When Simon woke up, his hospital room was dark and smelled bad. He lay staring at the ceiling until it stopped spinning, then he tried very slowly to sit up.
Was it the stench that finally woke him out of his cavernous pit? The rotten smell made his eyes water and throat burn. He felt sick and acid swarmed into his already rank tasting mouth. He lowered himself back down wondering if the smell was coming from himself.
His head was killing him. Surely there was a buzzer or something that he could press to call a nurse or doctor. Cautiously he felt around the sides of the bed. Nothing. He moved his head slowly to the left. By the side of the bed was a monitor that showed a blank screen. Wires dangled uselessly, which Simon took to mean that maybe he wasn’t too bad. He wasn’t dying at least.
He listened for noises coming from outside of his room but everything was silent. Weird. His body felt numb from the waist down. Must be some heavy duty drugs that they gave him. Simon tried to remember what had happened but his mind was blank. He couldn’t recall being brought here.
The last thing that he did remember was an argument. Sarah. Damn. He remembered that now. The two of them screaming at each other in the street. Christ, she’d left him hadn’t she. Oh God, now it was coming back. The woman in the club. The tequilas. Shame flooded his body. Where was Sarah? Did she know that he was even in here?
Simon closed his eyes. Can they not give him something for his pounding head? Something to block the pain, shame and guilt too? Sarah had been the angriest that he had ever seen her. He’d still been a little drunk and yes, that had made him cocky. He’d been trying to defend himself but really, he knew that he was in the wrong.
Simon groaned with the memory. It was like he and Sarah had been a different couple. One that they had said they would never turn into. How they used to spend Sundays gloating over their fantastic communication skills when they saw their friends were having relationship troubles. How smug they had been.
They had gone from lovers to strangers within hours.
Simon felt pressure on his bladder. He needed to pee and needed it now. He tried to sit up again, using the strength of his arms. Where were the doctors? He could have been dying and no-one had come to check on him once. And he needed to figure where that smell was coming from.
Simon slowly pushed himself up and leaned against the pillows with the exertion. He felt shocking and there were shooting pains running up and down his spine. And then a flash of an image came into his mind. Sarah behind the wheel of her car with her foot on the gas. And he was standing in the middle of the road telling her to come at him. What the fuck? A real memory or a dream?
What happened after that was a mystery.
“Hello?” he called out. Why was no one coming? He really needed to pee badly. And he was so thirsty. The corridor outside looked to be in total darkness. Was it night? How long had he been here for? But surely the corridors of a hospital should be lit, even at night.
“Hey!” Simon called out again. This time there was a note of desperation creeping into his voice. And yes, there was the edge of panic rising in his chest. Where the fuck was everyone?
He would have to attempt to do this alone then. Simon peeled back the bed sheet that was covering his legs. As he pulled off the covers the stench and image hit him full on, like a hammer to the face.
Where his legs should have been were two rotting stumps.
Simon’s screams could be heard around the empty hospital ward.
Nobody came.
Oh, Simon! Hell hath no fury…