An Experiment

The light seared his eyeballs as he woke.  He blinked hard a few times, trying to stop the throbbing.  As his vision began to clear, he could make out six halogen lamps above him.  Or was it eight?  No, four.

He tried to move, but he felt himself being held down by a strong hand.  Instinct took over and he fought against the restraint, but it only made the hand more forceful.

"I would not advise moving," a voice said.  He tried to respond to it, but the sound died before it left his throat.  "I am nearly finished.  It would be a shame to mess up now."

The voice was deep.  It was firm, but it was not hostile.  The words and tone were measured.  Deliberate. 

"Wh-here am I?" he finally managed to whisper.

"You…" the voice responded, "…are a very fortunate individual."

His breath left him for a split second as a pair of eyes suddenly stared back at him.  The rest of the face was covered by a surgical mask, but the eyes were a startling, vibrant blue.  They were calculating…direct…intense.

"Now…Slowly…you may sit up."

He let out a long breath and…slowly…sat up…and finally realized where he was.

It was a medical examination room.  He sat on the table and looked at the gray walls for any indication of what time it was, what day it was, how long he’d been there.  There was none.  Right now, the only certainty was that his head hurt.

He was finally able to see the source of the voice too.  The doctor removed his mask, revealing the face of a middle aged face, weathered and experienced as a result of its years.  This time, with the words, everything came together and it was obvious that this wasn’t the first time a person had bowed to this doctor’s presence.

"You did a stupid thing," the doctor said.  "The fact that you were not hurt more severely should be a lesson to you."

"What happened?" he asked.

"You don’t remember?"

He shook his head.

The doctor raised his eyebrows and nodded.  "Well, I’m certain that will change soon enough."

The doctor removed his bloody latex gloves and discarded them as he changed the subject.

"There are some people outside that want to see you."

"I uh…I think I wanna be alone for a while," he answered.  "Until I can clear the cobwebs…get myself together."

"Very well," the doctor said.  "I will inform them that you will come out when you are ready."

"Thank you."

The doctor nodded as he placed his hand on the door knob and then gestured back toward his patient’s head.

"Keep that covered for another 24 hours.  Best of luck to you."

With that, the doctor exited and closed the door behind him, leaving him alone in the room. 

For the first time, he touched the top of his head and felt the bandage covering an apparent wound.  He looked down and realized his shirt had been removed.  Growing more and more confused, he hopped off the exam table and went over to the mirror.  There, he saw that the bandage was placed vertically on the right side of his head.  He pulled the tape off and found a freshly closed three-inch gash.  Shocked, he quickly put the tape back.

Then, like a tidal wave, the images, the sounds–came rushing back.

He closed his eyes and leaned on the counter, trying to quiet them.

It was another mistake.  Another broken promise.  Another act of selfishness, of conceit, of self-importance.

For what seemed like an eternity, he just stood there and stared at his own image.  He saw the scars left behind from the mistakes of the past.  Some had faded while others were plainly visible.  Soon, this newest scar would be added to them.

He felt his jaw tense…he began to tremble.

He stumbled backward, collapsed into one of the chairs and slumped forward.

Another mistake…an act of selfishness…of self-importance.

His weakness….his flaws…were the reasons he found himself here—in this place.  He would bear the scar, but as he looked up at the closed door and placed his hand on the doorknob, he knew that the affects of today would reach far beyond this room.

Ready or not, he stood and opened the door.