The faint beeping of machines is maddening, yet they continue to ding softly in an unrecognizable tune. No one could see me or recognize me as more than just furniture. They treated me like an old TV dinner in the back of the freezer, ignored me, and left to rot. I couldn’t even close my goddamn eyes without help, and the sun burned through the windows in the afternoons. Nurses would come and go; the best ones would sing to me and close the blinds, actually acting like I was here. The worst nurses would just move my body to save me from bedsores. Shaking me left and right before walking out without a single word. Acting like I was nothing more than furniture.

Weeks would melt into each other. Days turned into inky nights, which were far more lonely. No one came in to check on me . The night nurse sat in the hall chatting her life away.

None of it matters though. Nothing does now.

I haven’t seen my wife in... I don’t know how long. Time isn’t real, and you learn that real quick living in a shell of a body. A half-living hell. Only half living, because at least in a living hell you can take a piss without a bag and take a walk when you want to. Before this nightmare, I was a man—with two children, a wife, a dog.

A normal, ordinary man.

I missed the damn dog the most.

A nurse walked into the room.

“Good morning,”

Her tone is far too chipper.

I scowled at the blonde woman, at least in my head I did. She bound around the room like a hyperactive pup. Her blue eyes connected with mine, leaning in to gently moisten them with a damp cloth. Her bright, perfect smile made me angry. I wanted to scream at her. Grab her by the shoulders and shake her into my reality. Let her be cheerful in a world where all you can do is breathe.

I am melting away here, damn it! You can’t be happy in hell! Room 216. I’m helpless. Useless. I might as well be lying in woods somewhere rotting away. What is the point of keeping someone like me alive? Hell, would anything be different if I were just dead? That’d be easier. Cold in the ground. No thoughts, no worries. Just gone. Just let me wither away.

But that’s the problem. I can’t even choose to leave this world. I can’t even communicate that I wanted to die, just beg for the freedom of death. I couldn’t even blink. The machines beeped. Beep. Beep. Beep. Like cruel laughter. The blonde nurse moved me around, cleaning me like a newborn babe. My eyes glazed over. I couldn’t stand not being able to help myself. In the old days, I was a man’s man, and now I’m nothing. At least babies could move.

Sweet peppermint filled my dry mouth. The nurse scratched the toothbrush against my teeth, and my head shook in time with her rough movements. It burned, the toothbrush kept sticking to my tongue. My mouth is as dry as California in fire season and the toothbrush is just as bad, one of those sponge brushes that makes your skin crawl from the texture. She was so rough. If this is how she brushes her teeth, I’m shocked her mouth wasn’t filled with pearly white nubs. The grit on my tongue made me want to gag, but even that was too much.

The nausea seeped in as iron coated my tongue. My gums were wrecked by her careless brushing.

Slowly, the chill of the room settled around me. Nurse Blondie left without notice. The metallic tang remained on my lips, mixed with minty freshness. It’s sad to mourn the loss of brushing my teeth with my own toothbrush and toothpaste. The feel of a razor’s edge over fresh stubble and being able to use the bathroom on my own were only fading memories now.

A husk. A feeble husk of a man lying in a hospital bed, surrounded by careless nurses and egotistical doctors.

Alone, while also not alone, it felt terrible. I felt like this was penance for a lifetime of sin. I did my fair share. I worked every day. I fed my family, I clothed my children, and yet I am punished. Punished for what?

I did good things, didn’t I?

Footsteps clamored against the cold, sterile hospital floor. It echoed into the room and felt so close, but those steps couldn’t be for me. Someone else had a visitor. Someone else always happened before me.

It always seemed that way. I just hoped it wasn’t Nurse Blondie back to give me a sponge bath or something worse. If I could shiver at the thought, I would be quaking.

Click clank, click clank.

The footsteps went silent, and I felt the door to my room open. It is not a creak to be heard; it is

just those shoes.

I had to be dreaming. She stood tall in all her glory, not a hair out of place. My wife’s deep chocolate brown eyes were filled with anguish, but at least she finally showed up. In my soul, I jumped for joy. Two teenagers joined her side, and confusion washed over me. Who were they?

Had so much changed? Time did matter. I lost so much. My body, my children, and my wife. It slipped through my fingers like falling sand. If I could just grasp them. Tell them I love them. Hug them. I longed to hug my children.

My heart sank to the floor. A man walked into my vision with sleek black hair and a razor-sharp suit. He gripped a vase that brimmed with peonies and orange anemones.

“John,”

My wife's voice shook with raw emotion.

The stranger placed his free hand on the small of my wife’s back, rubbing calming circles. Something I once did, keeping her anxieties at bay. Had it been so long? So much time had passed, and she found my replacement. I felt like an old car left at the dump in exchange for a shiny new model.

My children looked at me like a stranger. I didn’t mean anything to them. Just a sick man trapped in a body. They had no clue. It’s the look you’d give your grandmother when she would show photo albums of long-dead strangers.

My stomach turned when my daughter spoke up.

“Can I have money for the vending machine?” She asked.

Of course!

Oh, that’s right. No money. No movement. No speech. No, being a dad. Just a husk.

The stranger handed her his card, and she walked off with my son.

My mind swirled like a sandstorm. Confused, reckless, and blurry. I wanted to punch him; I wanted to punish her. For taking my life and giving it to someone else. The past was washed away by this stranger and by the progression of an illness we didn’t even know I had until it was too late.

The storm darkened my mind. My rage bubbled in my chest and my belly. This is hell. True hell. I watch my life pass me by without even a moment’s chance to do something about it. I am trapped in a prison that is my own body.

Forsaken by those who claimed to love him. Left to rot in rough cotton linens in a crisp, clean hospital. Death would be better than this. Again, I ask. What did I do wrong? Why is the universe punishing me like this?

Memories flooded my mind, and yet not one seemed bad enough to warrant such a life.

Out.

All I wanted was out.

But this was a prison. This was hell. This is the end of the line for me.

Then my wife’s voice chimed again.

“John, I can’t do this anymore,” she said.

His hand massaged her back once more, and the fire of rage appeared once again. I couldn’t believe it. Slender fingers played at her soft curls anxiously.

“It’s not fair to us. To the kids: I know I didn’t visit much. but there's a good reason,” her voice cracked.

My heart fluttered as she spoke, and her tears fell harder.

“The children and I have moved on. We can’t come back. I can’t come back anymore.”

Without another word, her body shifted to walk out of the room. I wanted to scream. I needed her to wait.

Wait, damn it.

Wait.

Her strides were long and quick. The stranger followed after, placing the vase of flowers down.

Move.

Move.

MOVE.

I needed to stand. I wanted to shout. I couldn’t.

She kept walking. Each step meant that much further out of my life.

“Please!” I shouted in my head.

But the words were silent. My mouth never even twitched.

Click-clack on the linoleum filled my room again, and I am desperate for freedom.

MOVE DAMN IT.

GET UP AND MOVE.

Once more, my thoughts went nowhere. Only screaming filled my mind as I heard her footsteps fade.

Going… going… gone.

Not even a finger twitch. Not even a moan of pain. Worthless and trapped in this body. This is bullshit.

My mind flashed through all that had happened here. The candle in the window that once was my life was snuffed out so easily. I needed to stop it. I needed to get up.

Just one finger. One single part of me. Just wiggle one finger.

I looked down as best as I could, hardly visible, but I felt something. I felt it. I know I felt it. I took a breath as best as I could; staying here couldn’t happen. It couldn’t go on like this. This isn’t how it should end. I needed to move. I needed to say goodbye to my children at the very least. Determination fills me. I begged my body to work.

The tendons in my fingers felt like a too-tight guitar string, but I felt it. I couldn’t eve look down to check.

But, I didn't move. I know I didn’t.

The sound of footsteps faded into silence, and here I am again. Alone. The beeping machines are maddening.

----

End