A Song for His Heart by M.C. Roth

Author:M.C. Roth [Roth, M.C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: LGBT Romance Fiction
Publisher: Totally Entwined Group
Published: 2021-07-21T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Trent slowly drifted awake. It was like coming out of one of his strange dreams about apocalyptic clowns armed with rocket launchers. There was a fizz of adrenalin just under his skin, but his body was slumped with the realization of the inevitable.

His eyelids refused to budge, as if they were crusted over and glued shut with his eyelashes acting as threads. There was a general ache that stretched from the left side of his jaw all the way up to his right eye, but it too felt like a dream.

He pushed against the fuzziness in his brain when he felt the rough sheets below him and smelled antiseptic mixed with stale blood. He tossed the dream aside and tugged his eyelids open with a sharp ache that sunk deep into his skull.

The sunshine was terrible, even with the unfamiliar floral curtains pulled shut and the silent fluorescent bulbs above his head. A headache racked his brain as the light rushed in, and his stomach flipped as his mouth watered alarmingly. He blinked at the unfamiliar walls, strange lights and ugly blue chair at the foot of the bed as his headache slowly dimmed to a manageable level.

The room was thankfully silent, but it was also empty of anyone except him. The bed was in the centre of the small room and it was just big enough that his toes didn’t poke over the edge. The sheets were an off-white and rough, likely from repeated washings in unlike colours. The cushion below him was soft, but it was the softness of sleeping on a water bed. It squished in all the wrong places and made his back strain and long for something firm.

There were silver railings on each side of the bed that were clicked upright to keep him from falling. There was also a monitor beside his bed, but it was silent at the moment and its screen was black and dull. The single chair was empty, just like the IV pole next to the bed.

“Hello?” His voice was stronger than he expected, and he reached up to touch his neck. He remembered the fierce grip around his throat, and he could feel a layer of bruising under the skin, but his throat itself seemed fine. He looked around, but no one emerged from the bathroom or the other door, which presumably led into the hall.

He reached for the railing on the right side of his bed and lowered it flat. He recognized the place from when he had broken more than a few bones as a youngster. It didn’t matter where the hospital was or who was managing it, they all looked and smelled the same. Everything was always outdated, except the equipment, and the smell was always a mix of antiseptic, death and sub-par food, all rolled into one.

His vision blurred and a throb pulsed beneath the shell of his skin as he dropped his legs over the side of the bed and pushed himself up into a hunched sitting position.

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