Beep. Beep. Beep.

My eyes popped open. I pulled the cloth sheets tighter against me. It was stuffy, I realized.  I blinked again, trying to focus my eyes.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I laughed. My own voice echoed in mind. I could see, but not anywhere close to sharp. Fuzziness lined the edges of my veiw.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Sir? We have his heart rate going down." A foggy voice said. I was able to grasp that I'd never know who said it. The thought made me frown, then giggle. Maybe I shouldn't know for a reason.

"Get him on clean air. For God's sake someone start chest compressions. Thirty then pump air, go now! I can't afford to have him die." A strict voice barked.

A gas mask was shoved over my face, covering my nose and mouth.

I realized what was happening. I was dying. Dying. My eyes welled with tears. I wouldn't get to say goodbye to Mikey.

I felt my chest being pushed on and wanted it to leave. Maybe I should've just died.

"He's slipping!" Someone new yelled.

Then everyone stopped. They just froze, silent. Like nothing was importamt, not time or anything. Hours might have crept by and they'd never have known it.

"Trauma induced coma. Four twenty in the morning. Patient Owen Conners, Trauma induced coma. Good lord he scared himself asleep." The doctor laughed.

Then I found myself to be in a deep, deep sleep.