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.

a bandage over my eyes, one of those used after head surgery,

me that, for safety reasons, a bandage would be placed on my head, which would go from the nape of my neck to my forehead to protect the incision and suture.

begin to feel dizzy and off-center. I blink, annoyed and uncomfortable, to find a way for the shadow and gloom to leave my vision. Nothing happens. I continue to see nothing but shadows and

on, you must tell me during the time you are in the clinic, both in observation and in a basic room. Nothing will be unnecessary. If you feel nauseous, please

you want? Haven’t you noticed that

see me?” he inquires

normal?” asks my brother. I

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 straightforward. I guess that’s why the betrayal with Arianna affected me so much.

eyelids again and

nothing, nothing more than a flow of flashes, of

nose and mouth, looked at me and told me that they were going to proceed to place a transparent plastic mask on me

my existence. She threw herself; she threw herself without caring that her son had just been born, just arrived in this world to be loved. After four hours of labor, the doctor who received 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

just shadows. What does this mean? Am I going to stay like this?” I ask, on the verge

ago was the surgery?

smile, his dark hair, his blue eyes, and his bright gaze. He would look at me lovingly when I approached him as if I was the best person in the world—his innocence and unconditional love

I’m going to monitor you for the first twenty-four hours.

the process? Of recovery? Or have I lost my sight

calm down.” My brother stands next to me and squeezes my right

I supposed to hold him before he falls to the ground when he trips over his feet? How am I supposed to

an appointment for surgery. I warned you that something like this could happen. The good thing is that, for the moment, it seems that the atrophied