Page 6 of The Sound of Him

No. Two fingers. They tremble.

“That's okay. That's normal. I'm going to see what we can do about getting you a scan. There was no head injury reported by Jake, but he wasn't there for the entirety of the incident.”

Incident? Just… an incident? Is that all it was to them? Just a little incident to write down before moving on?

“However, he was able to extimate that you experienced 10 to 15 minutes of extended partial deprivation, which can do lasting damage.”

“Damage?” Nolan asks. “Like brain damage?”

“In severe cases, yes. Jakedidsay that the complete oxygen deprivation only lasted about 45 seconds, so there is a possibility that the damage is minimal and not permanent.”

Only? Only lasted? Did he - did he just say only?

Nolan asks another question.

I don’t hear it. All I hear is that one word; only.

Only?

I can stillfeelit. I can still feel how the terror had been like acid in my veins, eating away at me, dissolving the parts that felt human until there was nothing left. Until all that remained was an imprint, a shadow, a ghost.

Sometimes I wake up convinced I'm still back there, my lungs seized up, no air getting through. I'll already be thinking the same thing I did that night;It must almost be over, right? I've got to be close to the end. Any second now, I’ll finally die.Then reality sinks in and I realize it was just a memory, a nightmare, and I can breathe perfectly fine.

I don’t remember when my fight to breathe came to an end. I remember how each little bit of air I managed to get felt like sandpaper in my lungs. I remember the cool feel of the floor on my bare skin and the warmth of someone’s hand on my shoulder. I remember the men laughing at me as someone nearby said words I couldn’t make out, their tone desperate and pleading. I remember thinking that I just had to endure a little longer, a few more seconds, and then I’d never have to again. It’d all finally be over. I would finally be free.

But I don’t remember when the breathing stopped altogether.

And I don’t remember when it started again.

Only 45 seconds?

It was alifetime. They never let me reach the end. Even now, all these months later, I’m hanging on that edge - not dead yet, but not alive either. Istillcan’t breathe.How can no one see that?

Ican’t fucking breathe.

I am so sick of trying to breathe.

I’m not suicidal. Really. It’s just that I'm useless, voiceless, like I screamed everything out that night, scraping myself raw and open, and now the wound won't heal. The screams won't stop.

It's just that I'm sotired.

Only?

Only 45 seconds?

I've been without air every second since, doc. I'm suffocating right now. Can't you see it?

When will it stop?

Please just make it stop.

I'm being held when I open my eyes.

I’m on the floor now, Nolan's arms around me. He’s whispering soothing words, the opposite of how we were this morning when all I could do was sit there silently as I held him. Not that it matters. The words evaporate the moment they reach me, becoming meaningless, just a buzz.

My file must have fallen with me. It lays open to my left, the papers from inside scattered, one corner of the top one bent.

I get my answer. They don't have my real name.