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The last thing Simon expected was for him to wake up.
Bright fluorescent light flooded his vision, a sharp contrast to the low neon that lit his tiny prison. There was a stream of small, rhythmic beeps coming from his left. He could hear soft rustling of cloth, a quiet conversation, the sounds of wheels rolling across flooring.
Simon blinked a few times, slowly adjusting his eyes. The room he was in had pure white walls with deep brown wooden paneling that wrapped around the bottom. The floors were a checker board of white and black marble. A chair of navy blue sat in one corner next to a little table. A screen hung on the wall in front of Simon, switched off.
The convict turned to his left. A machine with a larger view screen showed his rapid heart beat. A bag of clear fluid stood proudly next to the screen. Simon followed the tube attached to the bag and found it embedded into his left wrist.
He was in the hospital. Simon had been in a hospital after Filament exploded, but it looked nothing like this. Instead of bright lights and clean walls, the hospital of the C.O.I was dimly lit by lamps hung on dark gray walls. The room was compact, with patients lined wall to wall. Simon remembered the screams and wails of his fellow prisoners “saved” from the wreckage. Nurses and doctors scurried about, never saying a word, only checking vitals and distributing medication.
This hospital was quite in contrast. Simon used to enjoy quiet. Now, however, it made him feel more uneasy. He tried to prop himself up on his elbows, but found that only one responded. He looked to his right to find nothing, only a bandaged stub cut off near his shoulder.
Memories ran rampant through Simon’s head. The blood. The SM-8. The Monster. He gently touched the bandages with his left hand. It was soft. Simons shook as he observed his left hand in greater detail. There were no longer bumps and scales, but deep scars. His veins seemed to bulge out more, standing out against his pale skin.
His lungs began to tighten, breath coming out in short bursts. His vision swam. He was supposed to be dead. His sub was destroyed. There was no way he could have survived.
“Hello?”
Simon snapped up quickly, flinching away from the feminine voice. This had to be a trick. The Sm-8 captain playing with his mind again.
But no. An older woman stood in the doorway. She wore baby blue scrubs and a white face mask with pictures of some mascot with black ears and a tan face. Her eyes were crinkled at the sides, framing her warm brown eyes. She stepped towards Simon, who kicked at the bedding under him, trying to get as far away as possible.
The woman stopped. “I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
“I’ve been told that before.” Simon hissed, not letting his guard down. “Who are you?”
“My name is Abigail. I’m one of the head nurses here.” Abigail tapped a small name plate on her chest. On the left was a tiny picture of herself with her name next to it. Abigail Richards.
“Where am I?”
“The hospital.”
Simon clinched his teeth. “I can fuckin see that, but this looks nothing like the COI hospital.”
Abigail’s brows furrowed. “How would you know what a COI hospital looks like? Those stations have been lost for decades.”
Simon’s blood ran cold. “W-What do you mean?”
The nurse's expression shifted to one of concern. “All the space stations in the galaxy disappeared in 357 EIC. Thousands of people vanished in the blink of an eye. Do you really not know about that?”
The convict’s mind raced. Simon had always theorized the rapture happened the other way around. It was more comforting to him, to think that all those millions of people lived in peace while those fighting in the spacecraft were the ones who suffered. That they were fighting for nothing at all. Eden shut all those thoughts down. We were the survivors, the chosen few.
“Are you okay, son?” Abigail cautiously made her way to Simon’s side, gently touching his shoulder. He didn’t even realize he was crying.
“I’m supposed to be dead.” He choked out. “I should have died in that crash.”
The hand on his shoulder tightened, nails puncturing his skin.
“You’re right.”
Abigail’s voice reverberated, the sound vacillating through Simon’s skull. He grasped his head as a wave of pain crescendoed through his whole body. Simon watched as boils and scales fizzled and popped out of his skin, spines tearing out of his flesh. He cried out in pain, doubling over as his body contorted.
Where there was once a bed was now a sea of blood. Simon felt himself sinking. His body wouldn’t move.
A hand grabbed Simon’s chin, pulling it up and to the side. Where the kindly Nurse Abigail stood was a monster with soulless black eyes and a mouth filled with rows upon rows of sharp teeth.
“Did you honestly think you could escape? Death would have been too easy. No, now you will spend ETERNITY down here, IN THE PITS OF HELL!”
The monster pushed Simon down into the blood. His lungs congealed with blood. His body fell deeper and deeper into the abyss, and Simon could do nothing about it.
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At the bottom of an ocean of blood, a monster cried out, knowing no one was listening.