like an unfocused photograph

Sebastian awoke, surrounded by flashing lights and talking and wetness. Rain was falling onto his upturned face, the lights were flashing blue and white and red. He was lying on his back on a stretcher, being carried into the back of an ambulance. He struggled to sit up, struggled to realize what was happening, struggled to just think. But there were straps across his chest and his head ached too much to comprehend. Too much, too much. Why was he here, why was it raining? Where were those lights coming from? He squeezed his eyes closed, stopped breathing, and passed out.

When he awoke again, he was looking up into the wrinkled, fatty face of a middle aged woman in a black fleece jacket. She smiled at him, and he frowned back. Who was she, why was she there? Why was he there? He felt confused, panicked, almost. What was going on? “You’re alright, son,” she said, patting his hand. “Your in the ambulance, and we’re taking you to the Emergency Room, so don’t you worry. Does anything hurt?” Sebastian nodded, causing the pain in his head to increase. “My head,” he murmured. “And my ribs.” He took a breath, which also hurt, but it calmed him. He began to recollect. He’d panicked, crashed, and Trina didn’t know any of this. He imagined her alone, sitting on a windowsill in the dark, looking out at the moon and wondering with a scared mind, what had happened to him. That only distressed him, so much that the woman took notice and patted his hand. “It’s alright,” she repeated. “It’s alright.”

“Listen,” he said, as if about to lecture her, “I need to call my friend, I dropped the phone and she doesn’t know what’s going on! Do you have my cell phone? I have to call her, I-I know her number by heart, I can tell you if you’ll call her.” The woman shook her head. “We’ll call her when we’ve called your father first,” she said, with annoying patience. As if she didn’t understand how horrible she was being to leave Trina in the dark. “No,” he protested, trying to sit up, but feeling restraining belts against his body. This made him want to cry, he just didn’t know what to do and in his condition, all regular emotions were concentrated. “No! Call Trina, then Dad. Dad doesn’t know I was in a wreck, but Trina does, she was on the phone but she doesn’t know if I’m alive or dead! Don’t you get it?” The woman patted his hand again and told him to calm down and breath.

But Sebastian wouldn’t have it. He clawed at the nylon straps as best he could, but to no avail. Three more people stepped out of the shadows, though he had not noticed them before. They held him down, then did something, he wasn’t sure what, and when he awoke for the third time that night, he opened his eyes too look at a white ceiling. All white. White white white. A few things stuck out of the white, he noticed. As he moved his head, pain throbbed and he began to remember. Again. Trina, he thought, and began to move. The steady beeping in the room elevated and a nurse came in and hurried to his side. “Trina,” he said, not realizing this would make no sense to the nurse. “I have to call her!” And the same episode happened again, only this nurse was much more giving. Mostly because his father had been notified and calling Trina was now more of a priority. They let him have a phone, and he punched in her number.

A ring. Another. Sebastian held his breath and the beeping slowed. Rinnnnnnnnnng.