Runaway Bride

I wake up with heavy eyes. Gloom surrounds me, and darkness apparently takes control of my vision. I stir, uncomfortable, imprisoned, and immobile in the bed where I am. Attempting to sit up, my body screams at me to stop, aching and pitiful. I grunt with annoyance at being unable to sit up as I always have.

“Easy, brother, take it easy. It’s going to be all right. You’ve been asleep for a long time, it’s only fair you feel a little dizzy.” It’s Dawson who positions himself next to me.

“What happened?” I question.

My brother helps me sit up in bed with my back half straightened. He shakes out the pillow and places it behind me in a smooth, gentle motion.

“You had the surgery, but the important thing is that you’re okay. That’s what matters to me.” I hear the creak of the chair as he sits down.

My eyes are heavy, and my head is throbbing.

“Twin intuition, perhaps? Or maybe you’re worried about nonsense and simpletons?”

“Good morning,” they interrupt just as I go to answer Dawson. “I see you’re awake already.” David reaches over to open my eyelids and shine a flashlight on them.

I’m still dozing. However, something detonates in my brain. Confused, I analyze the situation. I don’t see the light. The glow of the flashlight doesn’t bother me, burn, or cause me to want to look away.

When Dawson rearranged the pillow, I heard it, felt it, as I was close enough to do so. I recognized their voices, both Dawson’s and David’s... but I didn’t see them. At no time did I see them.

“But what...?” I slap David’s hand and hear the flashlight fall to the tile in the room with a clatter.

I touch my face, startled.

I thought it was just a bandage over my eyes, one

concerning the days before and after the surgery. He informed me that, for safety reasons, a bandage would be placed on my head, which would go

as if it were a ton of cement dropped on it by a construction truck. I begin to feel dizzy and off-center. I blink, annoyed and uncomfortable, to find a way for the shadow

a basic room. Nothing will be unnecessary. If you feel nauseous, please tell me if your head bothers you or is heavy, also. The smallest detail, however simple it may seem to you, you

Haven’t you noticed that I couldn’t see shit? Fuck, I

inquires between confused

wrong? How come you can’t see? Is that normal?” asks

him, I feel it. I know he is there, and I don’t need my eyes to make his presence almost palpable. Our connection has always been like that: so real, honest, natural, and

opens my eyelids again and

than a flow

the surgical mask on his face, covering his nose and mouth, looked at me and told me that they were going to proceed to place a transparent plastic mask on me in order to sedate my body before the intervention on my nerve atrophied by

Dante at the castle determined that it was all depression that had not been detected in time. She committed suicide. And I tried to reach her clumsily, but I failed. She fell from the second floor, and the back of her head landed on one of the rocks that adorned the garden I had sent her to plant. I followed her trajectory, but as I was aware of the fall, perhaps because my intention was not to die and leave my son

I going to stay like this?” I ask, on the verge of losing my

was the surgery?

bright gaze. He would look at me lovingly when I approached him

just regained consciousness. I’m going to monitor you for the first twenty-four

me what the hell is going on. Is this part of the process? Of recovery? Or have I

think you need to calm down.” My brother stands next

a son! How am I supposed to watch him grow up? How am I supposed to hold him before he falls to the ground when he trips over his feet? How am I supposed to be in every

scheduling an appointment for surgery. I warned you that something like this could happen. The good