Mask

An ounce of prevention...

She heard the rumble of the engine as she jostled on a hard plastic cushion. A stern face seemed to float above her and she tried to speak but her words would not come. He quickly pried one eyelid fully open, and a flash of light momentarily blinded her. The air tasted coppery and stale, and her tongue rubbed around on her teeth like fat sausage thumping in a diminutive bowl.

The motion ceased and doors flung open. She felt herself rise and heard an abrupt snap as the gurney’s support and wheels clicked into place. The night sky sparkled briefly overhead before being replaced by the harsh glare of halcyon bulbs recessed into heavy concrete. The empty night sounds gave way to an explosion of activity as she rolled into the emergency room.

Her head, restrained by a cervical collar, could not turn to observe anything, nor would her eyes track; she was limited to survey the cold ceiling and the various equipment affixed there. Her ears could clearly hear agitated voices chanting away in a secret language of terminology and data. Another face appeared above her, and soft, brown eyes peered deeply into hers for a fraction of a second. Dizziness overcame her and she felt herself floating towards the ceiling. The voices became more disconcerted. A blur of plastic filled her vision. She could feel something cold touching her skin. The sudden, dry scent of unfamiliar air filled her nostrils, but her mind knew no more.

One heartbeat and an eon later, she awoke to the strange sound of a machine. It frightened her. Her mind tried to process the events leading up to this moment but it recalled only the haze of the ambulance. She soon realized the whine of the machine matched the breaths in her throat. A subdued ping announced her heart rate. The slow hum declared a blood pressure cuff was inflating somewhere on her body. Her eyes, taped shut, could not look around. She felt no pain. She felt nothing. She could move nothing.

Realization dawned on her. It was only a few drinks. The drive home from prom wouldn’t be so long. This was a dream, wasn’t it? She tried to pinch herself with dead arms. She fought to scream out or even shed a tear. Her body would not respond. She was trapped in her own mind; her slack face was a mask incapable of showing emotion.