An Excerpt from Burden - Draft

“Bruised ribs, fractured left eye socket, some internal bleeding,” a voice says near me. “Whoever worked him over did a good job at keeping him alive.”

I try to open my eyes but only one functions allowing some dim light to enter into my brain pushing back the shadows. In the blur I see three figures standing away from me, one in a white coat and two others in dark clothing with patches. As my vision clears slightly I can somehow recognized the two dark men as the police officers who questioned me at the bank about my apartment being robbed. The third man in white must be my doctor.

“Is that your professional opinion, that they wanted him alive?” one of the two policemen asks.

“I’ve seen enough drug related attacks and gang beatings to know whoever did this too him wanted him to survive, if just barely,” the doctor answers.

“Did he have any drugs in his system?” the second cop asks.

“No, nothing,” the doctor replies.

“Anything else strange about this,” the first questions.

“Yeah,” the doctor answers. “He had his wallet on him which was full of money so obviously they weren’t after that.”

“Where’s the wallet now,” the first asks.

“It should’ve been put in the hospital safe,” the doctor answered.

“Anything besides that,” the second cop asks.

With a shake of his head the doctor answers, “No.”

“We’ll need to see the wallet and whatever else was on him at the time,” the first policeman says.

“He’s waking up,” the second policeman says.

Through blurred vision, I can see the three move around the bed nearer to me. Immediately the doctor tries to blind me by flashing a light into my eyes which I jerk away from though the movement only exacerbates the pain I feel despite whatever drugs I’m being pumped full of. Then ever so slowly the conversation I just heard seems to register within my mind, especially the accounting of my injuries.

“Drazan Cvetko,” the doctor says as he looks at my chart. “You’re in the hospital. You were beaten pretty badly, but you should be okay. Do you understand me?”

I try to answer, to even move my mouth, but it’s impossible so I only nod. That tiny bit of movement, however, sends surges of pain down my spine.

“Try not to move,” the doctor says. “Your jaw was dislocated and you’re in a neck brace so remain as still as possible. Just blink once to let us know you’re okay.”

Like out of a movie I blink once though I’m far from okay. I’ve been beaten, battered, and abused all my life, but never this badly. Every muscle and joint hurts whereas my breathing is labored. And even though I’d love to take a deep breath to clear the heaviness out of my lungs, the simple rising and falling off my chest causes pain. In fact, just the pumping of my heart seems to hurt.

“Are you in pain?” the doctor asks.

Of course I am you idiot I think to myself, but I only blink once. At my response I see the doctor check the flow on the IV and adjust it slightly before his face returns to me.