Apollo opened his eyes and shifted them toward the clock: 2:47 p.m.

A throbbing pain spiked through his skull as he tried adjusting himself on the bed. Headaches usually got better with adequate rest, but this damn pain was starting to become a nuisance.

The door opened, and a man wearing a white coat marched inside with purpose. His coat billowed like a cape as he strutted toward the sink, washing his hands. “Good afternoon Apollo, it’s Dr. Lorenzo. How are you feeling today?” he asked, drying his hands on some paper towels collected from the dispenser. “You managed to sleep all day yesterday.” Apollo looked at him blankly for a few seconds before shrugging his shoulders. “Your mother came and stopped by this morning, but she seemed to be in an awful mood. We had to ask her to leave.” Dr. Lorenzo’s eyes narrowed like he remembered something he didn’t like. “Every patient admitted here deserves the best possible treatment they can receive.” He chuckled, looking directly into Apollo’s eyes. “But I digress.”

Apollo hadn’t a clue or particular care of what he was talking about. Being stuck inside a hospital, unable to determine how you got there, and surrounded by people you were uncertain of was never a comforting thought. Not to mention a pounding headache that wouldn’t necessarily go away.

Dr. Lorenzo grabbed a penlight from his breast pocket and flashed it into both of Apollo’s eyes. Apollo wriggled his head from its glare, the movement causing another shock of pain to travel through his brain. He blinked a few times to adjust his eyes from the floaters appearing on the ceiling.

“Your pupils look vibrant and steady, and you’re responsive to the lights glare. A positive sign,” he said, returning the penlight into his breast pocket. “I must say, for someone who’s been in a coma for over a week, you sure are recovering faster than normal.” The doctor thoughtfully looked at him, almost as if trying to piece together a puzzle in his mind. “Has anybody ever told you how special you are?” Dr. Lorenzo raised his eyebrows.

Apollo processed the question for a few seconds then shook his head.

“Well, you are, and don’t let anybody tell you otherwise.” The doctor smiled, pressing a button on the side of Apollo’s bed which raised him into a sitting position. “That reminds me. Your friend told me to tell you that she’d be back tomorrow.” Dr. Lorenzo bobbed his head toward the empty chair. “Joy was her name, I believe.”

Apollo stared at the chair, trying to remember where this Joy girl came from? Did they go to the same elementary school? Maybe it was the same high school? Perhaps a childhood friend? No, none of those seemed right …

“Okay, Apollo.” Dr. Lorenzo dug into his waist pocket and retrieved a red ball the size of a toddler’s hand. “This is a squishy ball,” he said, squeezing it in his hands a few times. “I’d like you to squeeze and hold the ball as tightly as you can for five seconds, and then I’m going to ask you to switch hands.” Dr. Lorenzo placed the ball into Apollo’s right hand.

Apollo stared at the ball in his palms, clueless on what he was supposed to do with it.

“Here, Apollo, like this.” Dr. Lorenzo took the ball and squeezed. “Exactly what I’m doing. Just squeeze and hold for five seconds, then switch hands.” The doctor placed the ball back into Apollo’s hand and watched tentatively.

Apollo’s fingers struggled to move as they eventually started to wrap around the ball.

“That’s it, Apollo,” Dr. Lorenzo said, forming his hand into a fist. “Squeeze.”

Apollo added a bit of pressure toward the ball as it began to flatten inside of his hand, spewing against his fingers. The texture was unnaturally smooth against his palms and cool to the touch like silk.

“One, two, three, four, five,” Dr. Lorenzo said. “Good, now the other hand.”

Apollo slowly opened his hand and tested his fingers, wiggling them around as best he could. They felt oddly numb.

Dr. Lorenzo gently took hold of Apollo’s left hand and firmly placed the ball inside. “Again.” Apollo repeated the process, and Dr. Lorenzo counted beside him before storing the ball back into his waist pocket. He took out his notepad and clicked his pen, scribbling away as he hummed a soft tune underneath his breath.

An image of bloodied palms flashed through Apollo’s mind like a snapshot. Where did the blood come from? No, no, no, blood wasn’t supposed to be on his hands. Where did it come from? Apollo started to groan, bringing his hands closer toward his face. Why was this happening? An image of a group of thugs attacking him flashed in his mind, causing the muscles in his body to tense up. The machine attached to his heart pinged faster.

Dr. Lorenzo quickly rested a hand on his shoulder to console him. “Apollo, you have to relax. No excitement, no movement, just calm down. Everything will be over soon.”

Apollo tossed and turned and flailed his arms in the air. Two female nurses hurried in, Dr. Lorenzo giving them strict instructions.

“Apollo, look at me.” The doctor held a firm grip on his arms. Apollo swung his head from side to side. “Look at me, Apollo!”

Apollo held brief eye contact before his body involuntarily rocked back and forth, legs kicking into the air. One of the nurses took hold of his left arm and Apollo felt a subtle needle prick dig into his skin. It only took a few seconds before each limb felt as if they were trapped under cement.

“Relax, Apollo, everything will be all right,” the doctor said, his voice soft and calm.

Darkness began to swirl around Apollo’s eyes. He tried fighting it off, fearful he’d never return to the light, but it was consuming him faster than anticipated. Moving was now next to impossible. What did they do to him? The darkness was now creeping ever closer toward the center as Apollo dropped his head to the side, eyes shutting closed.

The darkness had fully taken over.

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