tests

He frowned. Whatever answer he wanted to hear it clearly wasn't that. The conclusions he made from his quick check up led to me being subjected to further testing.

Tests.

Tests and even more tests.

Reminds me of Before.

From what I can tell the medical staff is very confused by the fact that I'm not in a coma.

Barring the fact that this body probably did technically die at some point before I took over.

I may be operating on false assumptions, however. Whatever happened when I had lost consciousness showed no indication of Drake ever having been hospitalised. So, what happened to change that?

I tried to gather more information as I'm wheeled from one set of doctors and nurses to the next, but it seemed as though they were under strict orders no to reveal anything useful to me.

All this testing and prodding is so similar to what the months leading up to my eventual death were like that I am left feeling hollow when they finally stop.

I thought I was finally past this. I thought all of this hard finally ended. I wonder when it's okay for my suffering to stop.

Just stop.

I must lose consciousness at some point, whether it's due to exhaustion or sheer boredom.

The next time I opened my eyes I felt much better. As though my mind was more settled, and the constant headache I had had no longer as bothersome.

When I looked around the hospital room, it was empty. My mom must have finally taken some time to go refresh herself.

I'm grateful for whoever convinced her to do so.

I then finally think to check my bedside drawer. A smartphone. She must have left it here in case I woke up when she wasn't here.

I pick it up and when I turn it on the first thing I see is a selfie of my mother and Drake. Me. Drake. He looks young. 17? 16?

My eyes move over to check the date and I dropped the phone.

Jan 17th, 20XX.

This is before Drake's life went to hell. Before his father left. Before they moved to a place filled with people that couldn't stand the sight of him. Before he became disillusioned with the world so much so that his sanity was held together by a fragile thread. It's before his mother broke into a thousand pieces and never truly recovered.

So.

Breathe. I need to breathe.

I hear a loud sound near me. The door is thrown open. People entered the room. I can't see them because my vision has gone blurry but I know they're there. I don't understand what's happening but I can hear one of them trying to calm me down.

It hurts. My heart it hurts so much I can't breathe. I can feel tears fall as I beg for mercy.

The last thing I remember is a pair of hands urging me to lie down and I do.