They're All Jins

“Ssshhhh, it’s going to be okay. Just hang in there a bit longer.” Momma tenderly rubs my back as I’m heaved over in a stiff chair that desperately needs padding.

        “I’m sorry, Momma,” I say after vomiting once again into the blue vomit bag from Daddy’s truck.

        Wrapping her loving arms around my shoulders, she tells me she loves me. “Don’t be sorry. I’m your mom. It’s what I do.” Gently, she wipes my mouth as she struggles to breathe. She’s pretending she can breathe, though. “I’m sorry. They’ll have a bed for you soon.” She ties my wild hair back with thumbs that have no muscle.

        “Christina Blake!” A CNA comes to fetch me. She looks calm and collected with polished nails.

        I stand on wobbly legs just to hit the floor. My face smashes into the stale carpet that smells like disinfectant.

        I’m in a wheelchair now. Momma is struggling to keep up behind us. Her face is red, and she’s sweating. They place me in a sterile room with dim lights and two chairs beside the bed. I’m doused with a warm blanket as they refresh my vomit bag. I quickly make use of it. They’re so lovely. Daddy’s here! When did Daddy get here?

        The medical staff is trying so hard to draw my blood and get an IV in me, but they keep missing my veins. I told them I swear I’m not moving them on purpose. They laugh. I like it when the hospital staff laughs. I don’t think they laugh enough. A new lady is here now. She does her two pokes and strikes out too. A doctor enters my room, saying he’s back so soon. When was he here before? He waves a blue light all over my arms and legs but sees no useable veins. He draws my blood from the tattoo on my chest, almost directly over my heart. The IV goes in and is snug next to my armpit, so it’s a bit awkward. He’s apologizing now. I’m not sure why he’s apologizing.

        Nurses hover over my room as my Mum boils over in impatience.

        Negative test results poor in like warm beer.

        A woman with a practiced smile walks in with a lab coat. “How much Tylenol have you used today?” Says a fidgeting doctor. Constantly messing with her greying hair.

        “Two five-hundreds. Why?” I reply.

        “You’ve over doused on Tylenol, so we’ll start you on a drip that will lower that for you.”

        “But the limit is 2000-” my protest goes unheard as she walks away.

        I look over to my Mum for comfort, but I only see Daddy. He grabs my hand in a soft hold. When did Momma leave? Momma comes back with a new doctor. This one is younger and husky with gentle eyes. “Hi, there’s been a shift change. I’ll be taking care of you now.” He sits on the stool, chewing over some thoughts. “Look, I know that previous doctor said you OD’ed, but I disagree. However, I think that the drip she ordered could help your liver without hurting it.” He drones on how I will have to stay overnight and that I have to go to the ICU, not because I’m dying, but that’s where the medicine has to be administered. That’s odd, though, because they plan to start it here, so why do I need to go to the ICU? Unless it’s a lie to not worry me about my impending death. 

        Not long after the speech, my parents wish me good night. They plant tender kisses to grow warmth on my forehead.

        Josh and Savanah enter my room as nurses hook me up to a buzzing machine brimming with tubes and wires wildly placed. Their smiling faces attempt to put me at ease. The medicine flows through the tubs into my chest. Josh and Savana are a comfort as they make me laugh. Josh recounts his uneventful day with dramatic flair.

        I’m choking.

        I can’t BREATHE!

        My suffering goes unnoticed by my companions. My doctor strolls in with light shoulders. “When did you start getting hives?” He studies the hives scrapping at the flesh of my chest and spreading to my arms.

        I can’t respond.

        Someone help me!

        “I’ll have your nurse drop by with some Benadryl.” Just like that, the man walks away. His broad shoulders squeeze through the sliding door.

        Josh and Savana stare at me blankly. Looking at each other, the couple fidgets with their clothes.

        A cute nurse pops in with a bubbly disposition. She doesn’t look at me. Instead, she plays with the monitors.

        “Benadryl.” That is all I can gasp out. I can see the hives merge into welts on my skin.

        Suddenly she looks at me with wide doe eyes as she takes in the welting hives on my chest. “I’ll be right back.” She mumbles.

        Finally, anti-allergens shoot through my being, easing the tension in my throat.

A swarm of nurses surrounds me. “Were taking you to the ICU.” A stern RN takes the lead. Her commanding presence leaves no questions. The business of nurses sprint me to the elevator and dash me to my new room.

Josh and Savana lag behind the marathon runners. While the squad readies me for my stay in intensive care, they ban Josh and Savana from the room as I’m bombarded with questions.

I don’t feel good.

The woman talks fast with no-nonsense, kind of like a businessperson. She’s asking me questions I don’t know the answer to. Momma always answers the questions. Why isn’t Momma here? I miss Momma. I’m scared. Where am I?

Finally, my friends can enter, but my boyfriend has answered none of my update texts, including letting him know I’ll be in the ICU. Josh gifts me a small tiger plushy. I love it so much; tigers are my favorite animal. I pet its puffy hair sticking up.

The lights go dark in the ICU, and everyone heads home.

I’m all alone now.

Everything feels heavy. I can’t even move my head to the side. I’m trying so hard, yet I can’t even lift a finger. My muscles strain and flex with no reward for my effort.

Reality flashes before my eyes. The sterile room is now filled with cobwebs, and everything is eroding with rust. The tv only plays static and whispers of death. My blanket is itchy, like an army of spiders are crawling up my legs. Glancing to my side, I see the liquid in the tube go into the IV. A woman passes my decrepit door. Her complexion is blue like the cloudless sky. Insignias engraved into their face spell a slow death. I’ve seen this before. That’s a jin. It’s here to drain my life force while I die in a false reality. That’s why the liquid is going back into the IV. 

I can’t move, not even to rip the needle from my flesh.

They’re going to brainwash me! I need to get out. I have to run away! I struggle to move, but the paralyzation has a ghostly grip on me. My eyes roll to the ceiling, where I see a giant spider looming over me. Drooling into my hair. One drop covers my scalp and burns with searing pain. I scream, a whispering scream as my voice fades. Its eight eyes stalk me with a predator’s glee in its eyes. NO! The monster is descending! Someone save me! My palms sweat as I put everything into moving. I must get away. My heart is beating out of my chest, and all I can manage is to get my head to toss to the other side. I can’t even do it again? Paralyzed on my deathbed, the dizziness sets in. Its fangs are inches from my skull.

I need to fight. I have to fight! The monitors scream at me.

A jin steps into the room, approaching my bedside, grappling my hand with cold demonic hands.

More adrenalin rages in my blood, blessing me with the strength to deck the demon. I try to flee awkwardly, struggling to get the blanket off my feet. Screaming as the blanket transforms into a herd of baby spiders crawling up my skin. My face hits the chipped tile covered in dry blood and dirt. Tubes and wires strain against the machine, threatening to rip my flesh, now knocked prone, leaning on my rusty bed for support. The spiders are everywhere. They’re crawling into my mouth as I paralyze yet again. Choking on the arachnids, I feel their hairy legs scratch my tongue. I stare out at the cold room with shattered windows. The curtains billow in the night. Black skeleton hands crawl through the opening at a jittery pace. Reality flashes before my eyes.

The nursing staff scramble to gently place me back in bed. They secure tight straps on my limbs. Why are they doing this? I just fell out of bed. No reason to chain a person up. Looking into the crowd, I see a nurse sporting a shiner. What happened to her? I hope she’s okay. 

“I hope you feel better,” I say to the wounded woman.

She gives me an odd look in return, but oh well, kindness isn’t about reward. I watch as the color fades from her face, turning her pale as the moon. She positions a pitiful hand on my shoulder. “You’re going to be okay.” She says with a smile. She looks like she’s about to cry.

Nurses stop by frequently to tell me I’m so strong and brave. I don’t get it. How would they know if I’m courageous? All I do is check for a message that I guess will never come.

A bunch of my family stops by to say hello this sunny morning. My cousins and my parents brought my big brother too.

“You look awfully yellow. You feeling okay?” Says my cousin.

That’s wired. Why would I be yellow? The doctor said I have mono. My Mum reassures me after my cousins leave that I don’t look yellow and that I’m as pale as I usually am.

Days have passed now, but I still can’t use the bathroom by myself. I hold it as long as possible, hoping it will just disappear. I don’t want to have help to go to the bathroom. I hate it here. Everything is too white and shiny, and the sun is always bright. I wore shorts here, and I haven’t gotten to shave. Not that I would have the strength to. My legs are so hairy they could replace the rainforest. Luckily Momma said she’d bring me leggings.

I check my phone once more and see a text lazing about my notifications. My boyfriend has finally texted me back. He doesn’t apologize for the late reply and says he can’t visit me because he’s too busy. My boyfriend is too busy to see me in intensive care. Tears mark my face as a reply with a single k.

Momma and my big brother are here to keep me company. It’s the best when my brother visits because he always closes the shades for me. The nurses just lecture me about being sun deficient.

“We’re ready to discharge you!” Says a duo of doctors as they enter the room. Have I seen them before? I don’t remember them. “Now, I want to be very clear that you are still dying and in serious danger, but there is nothing more we can do for you. If you so much as bump your abdomen, you could rupture your gallbladder paired with your bleeding disorder. It could very well kill you.” His face is stern yet kind.

The other doctor is a liver specialist. “You were in danger of liver failure and have acute hepatitis.” He drones on how my live enzymes aren’t supposed to go above fifty but are currently sitting at in the two to three thousand. Apparently, I need to rest for three months. My bank account is gonna hate me.

Meeting my boyfriend for the last time is bittersweet, but I suppose it is time to put this charade of love to bed. He doesn’t cry when I say goodbye, but I do.

 I may be single, but I am alive. I defied death and kicked the Grim Reaper in the balls. I said no to death. I guess it’s really true, I am too stubborn to die. Now to live like I’m dying.