one down, one soon enough
Friday, May 11, 2007
I hear a cry, a howl, a scream - I don't know what, but it was definitely eerie. I rushed to a dark hallway and into a silent, and equally dark room. I stared at nothing for quite a long while I heard it again, the same sound of riveting sadness and pain, and I felt the nerves connected to my eyes throb as I strain to see into blindness. Light flickered inconsistently from somewhere, and there I saw the creepiest thing I've seen in my life. He was slumped in a corner of rubbish and concrete, and he was uncontrollably shaking. It wasn't entirely the fact that he was going into a seizure that freaked me out, but that he shook mercilessly and stared at me with blank eyes. I felt chilling goosebumps run me all over, and I couldn't move. I felt nothing for a minute, then something else, and then I was confused, because I wanted to do something, but I didn't move. The shaking continued, and he even bumped his head a few times to the nearby walls. I was quite sure he was going to die right after this seizure. No, I'm not a heartless person, but this is possibly the best way things could go, as this.. suffering couldn't possibly do him good, it'd prolong the pain. And still no, I'm not an advocate of Euthanasia. But this, this is an exception. I wanted him to die, it was almost more painful for me to watch him shaking madly than him actually suffering.
He stopped shaking. But there was still no life in his eyes. He was running to my direction. Fast. And I jumped out of his way, and he continued to run, until he rammed into another concrete wall. And again. And again. Every time he'd crack his head into another wall, I twitched incoherently. He stopped his aimless headbutting and slumped again, in a different dark corner. This time, I didn't hesitate to use my hands and pick him up from the shanty coverings. I held my right hand over his eyes, and carried him off to a comfortable shoebox. There he lied sleeping, breathing inconsistently, but in a peaceful slumber.
I am not scared of death, for myself and for others, but I am scared of the transition from life and death. I don't want to see anyone spurting blood or white bubbly liquid from their mouths, or screaming in shattering pain, or shaking madly, and then looking at me while they're in a suffering state. I really couldn't care less, but when they give me that blank, eerie look, things start to sink in pretty fast, and I don't even know what those things mean. So I shy away from the light of a deathbed and watch youtube or play American McGee's Alice.
I have to wash my hands. Oh, and he's running around me again.
smiled at the sun again @ 6:50 PM,
