The silhouettes faded as they reached his face, and the small room filled with tiny boxes. Chris reached for one but drew back just as quick, remembering what happened when he tried to take a box the last time. Tucking his hands into his chest, he shrank against a wall and slunk to the floor in a seated position. The tiny boxes continued to fill the room, getting ever so much closer to him. He wanted nothing to do with them.
“G-Get away,” stammered Chris. The boxes multiplied, closer, and closer still. “N-no! G-get away!” He swiped at them sending them flying across the room. He needed to get out of there. Shooting glances in every direction proved futile as no doors existed. “Noooo! Get me out of here, please!” cried Chris. The tiny boxes closed in.
Then he spied it. A tiny light appeared from across the far right of the room. A way out? Scrambling to his feet, he tripped over the boxes landing on his knees. The boxes appeared faster now. He picked himself back up and continued. The closer he came to the light the faster the boxes grew until they became immovable. The light sat within inches of his fingertips and began to fade. His heart sped up. His breathing heavy, suffocating.
Chris stretched every muscle he had. His fingers hung in the balance. Blood rushed to his head and the room darkened. A gray haze floated like fingers across his vision. His head lolled to the side, then “POP”. His body thrust backward, slammed against the back wall, and slunk to the floor.
Chris’s eyes trudged upward, then slunk shut. An eyelid lifted and a bright light entered. Oh good. He reached the light. How, he didn’t know. A pop, body flying, couldn’t breathe. His other eye lifted and again a bright light invaded.
“Chris, Chris can you hear me?”
The voice. Distant. The room. The silhouettes. “uhhhh,” moaned Chris.
“Easy does it now. That’s it.”
Again, Chris lifted his eyelids, resting them at half-mast. His fuzzy vision swam in front of him at first. His eyelids drooped closed, then lifted, then closed, then lifted. His hazy vision cleared. The hospital room was painted a dusty pink with white trim. A wide wooden door with a vertical window above the handle stood ajar. A doctor stood on his right and a nurse stood on his left. The bed was hard and his back ached.
“What?” asked Chris in confusion.
“It seems you passed out. When you did, you hit your head pretty bad,” said the doctor.
“We thought we lost you there for a while,” said the nurse whose name badge read Carrie.
Chris’s body hurt like it had been steam rolled. He blew out a breath and looked out the window to his left. But something caught his attention on the windowsill. A box.