When you laid your head down, finally, to rest after months of being Awake, it was on fluffy pillows. Lady Thrinia, the Blind Knight ally ordered by the Wax King to watch over you, pulled silk sheets over your tired body to cover you, keeping you warm as you slept in a sumptuous four poster bed surrounded by candles. It was the most comfortable you’d felt in years. Maybe ever. Sleep hit you hard, the dam breaking, and your aching body yearning to recuperate, to mend.
After months of fighting Nightmares, after defeating Mother When and shocking the Mad City to its core, after helping the Wax King bring the foundation of the place to its knees, you were able to take a rest.
A short rest. You’d earned it.
Your girlfriend, formerly just your best friend in the whole world, but now more, awaited you in the real world. She told you she’d be counting the minutes until you came back for her. She told you she loved you, Benny. She meant every word.
The first thing you notice is the smell of the sheets. Bleach. Starch. There’s an antiseptic tinge to the air that you don’t recall. No candlewax.
Echoes. You hear echoes from somewhere in the room, or maybe outside it. The squeak of a tennis shoe on lacquered tile.
The sheets itch. For that matter, your face itches. When you touch it as you slowly rouse, you feel hair. A beard. A full
beard. You've never been able to grow a full beard, have you?
Eyes open finally, to daylight streaming in from the outside through safety-glass thick blocks. You’re on a hospital bed of some kind. A metal door to the hall, with a square glass window. Everything is painted an ugly pastel green. The floor is poured concrete. The bed creaks from old springs.
Your muscles take a bit to respond. It’s like they’re not used to, you know, moving anymore. You can sit up, with some effort. You’re nude, except for the bedsheet. The itchy one. There is an IV in your arm. You're hooked up to a machine, with shiny metal discs taped to your chest.
You see an orderly walk by in the hallway, a pair of headphones on as he pushes a cart or something. In the far distance, you hear someone, an old lady’s voice, calling, ”Somebody. Somebody help me! Please! Please somebody help me!”
Her voice is hoarse like she’s been yelling for a very long time.
What do you do?