rehabilitation

Being awake during your enforced stay at a hospital means being acutely aware of your confinement.

Although thoughts of my mother, the only person I consider family, my curious predicament, the fate of the universe, homework, and Daniel's visits have kept me busy... I still wish I could leave this cursed place.

I haven't seen the strange entity of Drakes in a while, nor have I been taken to the white space again. The few attempts I've made to go there intentionally, resulting in useless failures.

I've gotten to know the staff in charge of my treatment seeing them day in and day out.

Some still have a tendency to look at me as though they're expecting me to close my eyes and never open them again.

I don't blame them. Considering how many close calls I've had and the initial diagnosis before I came into this world.

The past month or two of lucidity have allowed me to better process the Original Drake's memories. I've taken over some of his likes and dislikes it seems, though the influence thereof is fairly limited. I've received more information about the current state of this world, though having access to a smartphone and WiFi already helped with that particular process. Constantly acknowledging these memories, analysing them, I've found is best at managing the headaches these memories usually cause.

It's only because of this that I've realized that there are gaps in Drake's memories. More precisely, I feel this strange resistance whenever I think of certain subjects.

One of these subjects is what exactly happened on the day Drake was first hospitalised.

Regardless of what I'm told, the extent of my injuries just don't seem to match up with a fall from a treehouse. Trees in gardens can't be that tall.

Once I'm discharged I'll have to investigate this a bit further. It's fine if I'm overthinking this and this ends up with just me being paranoid. But, if there's anything else going on I need to know.

The cast on my arm was finally taken off. My arm looked so fragile when they did that. As though it could snap at any moment.

The bandages on my head, however, are still there. They've lessened but not been completely taken off.

Another month passed like that and it's been three months since I've arrived in this world. Just when I was getting used to the constant sense of boredom I was told that I was ready to start physical therapy.

I had already started physiotherapy for my arm in the past month. Slowly getting it used to movement again, but despite the many sessions my arm still felt stiff. Walking was a completely different level.

The idea of getting out of this bed and actually trying to walk somehow was terrifying at first. Then it became a source of constant pain.

I can feel the improvements in my body, and rehabilitation was meant to get me used to moving around again.

The first two weeks were agony. Not just physically but mentally.

I've been told that I've been in the hospital for six months in total. It's currently February. That's how long the muscles in this body have had to atrophy. That my body was still littered with bruises when I initially woke up, indicated how severe the injuries must have been to have healed only now. I could still see remnants of in these I injuries since the bruises hadn't completely disappeared yet.

So, I understood it would take time before I was up an moving again. Before I could take care of myself.

The first time I saw myself was by accident in the bathroom mirror. I was captivated by my light brown eyes, Drake's eyes, for a moment.

Then these eyes moved over the rest of my head, my body. It was a shock. I touched the bandages on my head and realised that some things are already different in this Drake's world. Whenever these bandages are taken off whatever injury they hide will probably leave a scar. The older Drake of my memories didn't have any scars.

This world already became different the moment I crossed over. The moment whatever incident happened that led to this hospitalisation. Yet, it's only when I saw the physical reminder that's left on this body of this ordeal, that I realise I need to be more careful of how I use knowledge of this Drake's world and the future this life holds.

This realisation sobered me up from my complacency. I started putting even more effort into my sessions so that I could get myself out of this place.

It reminded me too much of Before. When I would get lost in these memories, it's only my mother's hand holding onto me that brought me back to this new world, this new life.

Daniel's visits if anything have increased. He was there during my first day of physical therapy in support, and once he found out the frequency at which I would have these sessions, he became even more of a constant presence at my side.

Thanks to Daniel I've been able to catch up somewhat with my studies, but I'll have to work hard going forward to not fall further behind. It helped that it's not material I'm unfamiliar with, so catching up has been fairly easy.

I'm not sure what to think of Daniel. At times I find myself setting up traps just to see how he would react. He always gets this look in his eyes when I test him, which lets me know he knows what I'm doing, but he still goes along with it.

Time passes and another month goes by.

The doctors become more confident in the fact that I won't fall unconscious at any moment. My physical therapy has gone well. I've regained most function in my left arm, though it still feels stiff. I can walk with the help of crutches for longer and longer. Though the distance I can walk without them is still fairly limited.

I'm told that I'll need to come for frequent check ups and tests.

It's April when I'm finally allowed to leave.

One day:

"We're friends" I said, wanting to see how Daniel would respond.

"Whatever gave you that idea" he inquired, with this curious tilt to his head.

"Because I care about you and I know you care as well, at least a little." Well, I might be exaggerating just a bit as I say that...

"That's-" he began to say but cut himself off.

Catching him off guard is becoming something of a amusing pastime. That slight widening of his eyes, the way his eyebrows furrow just that slightest bit, the way his fingers twitch on his side... All signs he doesn't know he's giving off.

To be honest I still don't know if we can be considered friends. So, depending on his answer let's see if we can start classifying ourselves as such.

Perhaps that's all you really need. For one of the parties to say you're friends, to make it so.

I let him process this, and wait. Curious to see what he says.

"Indeed we are" he finally said.

I allow myself a small smile at that.

Guess I have a friend after all.