My pant legs sag with the moisture of the evening dew as I blindly run through the woods. I only have a short amount of time before she sees I’m not there and starts driving around looking for me. If one of the creatures in the basement doesn't get to her first, that is. For the life of me, I cannot remember if I closed that door before when I ran out. I want to say I did, but I can’t be sure.
The haze that consumes my head is overwhelming as I stumble through branches and leaf piles. Twigs discarded by nature stabbed through the soles of my shoes. Even through my delirium, it doesn’t take long to realize that the further I run, the quieter the woods become. Not too long after, I stopped seeing any animals at all. A ray of sunshine shows through the thinning tree line like a beacon of hope. I’m all too relieved to hear the familiar sound of cars speeding by. Each rotation of the tires slices through my left temple like a Ginsu knife. My kneecaps buckle with exhausted uncooperation before I reach the roadside. The lids of my eyes become heavy as injury takes over, bringing me to my knees. Soon I’m feebly grabbing blades of grass. I inhale and exhale particles of dirt through my panting mouth as I fade out of consciousness.
*
The room I’m in is freezing cold, and the artificial light behind my closed eyelids is painfully unsettling. My hearing returns before my vision does; I try to make sense of things. An incessant beeping rings throughout the area I’m in. Footsteps crescendo down the hallway and stop in front of me. I’m hoping it’s someone who can explain what the hell is going on here. Dread manifests in a cold sweat across my body as I realize I could be back at the house. It smells too clean for that though. The solitary set of footsteps take a few more steps in my direction before turning left and walking past me. I hear the whoosh of a curtain being retracted as a man begins to speak.
“Ah hello there mister…” He pauses as I hear him shift through some papers. “Barton.” He continues.
That definitely gets my attention. Before all this shit happened, my last name was Barton too. My brain screams at my eyes to open but I can’t move a single muscle. Trying to distract myself, I start thinking about all the creepypastas I’ve heard about sleep paralysis over the years. I wonder if this is what that feels like. I don’t get to wonder too long before a new voice enters the equation.
“Doc,” the man says, “call me Todd. Also do you have somethin to drink? My throat is drier than a nun’s sense of humor.” He quips. A soda can clicks as the tab opens and the man greedily gulps it down. “Fuck yes.” He exclaims. “Ginger ale’s my favorite!”
Could it be? There has to be more than one Todd Barton in this town, and I only vaguely recognize the voice.
The first flutters grace my lashes, revealing the room to me with a strobe light effect. I saw fluorescent lighting first, rows of it. A solitary sink sits recessed into a counter, a dry erase board is hung above it on the wall that reads: Room 439/ Nurse: Joanne
A corded phone sits next to me on a table, followed by a hospital bed and television remote. My ribs and shoulders are racked with sudden, dry coughs which gains the attention of my neighbors. The same set of footsteps from earlier approach my side of the room, pulling the security curtain back in one fluid motion.
“Mr. Richards, welcome back to the land of the living.” The doctor jokes. “How are you feeling?”
“My mind woke up before my body did.” I mutter uselessly, unsure of what to say. My name definitely isn’t Mr. Richards. I know anything off key that I say will only prolong my hospital stay, so I ride it out.
“Yeah that happens sometimes.” He replies dismissively. “You have a pretty serious concussion, and the cut on your scalp required multiple sutures. We gave you an anesthetic to help you sleep so your brain can heal. Normally we discourage the state of unconsciousness in the event of a head injury but by the time the driver found you, it was already too late.”
“Hey roomie!” I hear what was once my own voice yell from beyond the curtain. “What are ya in for?” He jokes, confirming my suspicions and fears. On one hand, I'm relieved that he's been here this whole time and not at my house. On the other hand though, if he's been here, then who has been with my kids?
I chuckle half heartedly in response before the doctor draws the curtain back. “You decent Mr. Barton?”
“Decent as I’ll ever b-.” The voice responds. It stops short the second he lays eyes on me. The brain that thankfully still belongs to me sends a signal to the eyes that are not to widen in terror as I take in the sight before me.
The body I had taken residence in for the vast majority of my life now looked like an abused shell. When things were the way they’re supposed to be, people often told me I had kind, smiling eyes. The two, lifeless orbs I stare into now weren’t that way at all. Now, this parasite stares at me through blackened eyes from a broken nose. His lips are chapped and swollen. I’m horrified to see him feverishly pick at his… my skin with dirtied, ragged fingernails. Looking down at the hands I occupied now, I realized I’d been taking care of his body much better than he’d been taking care of mine.
“You clean up good man.” He remarked, leaning over in his bed to look around the doctor that had now entered his half of the room. “Actually doc, I think I wanna get some sleep. Can you close me back in there bud?” The doctor dutifully closed the curtain back before exiting the room.
My head fills with a weighted agony as I sit up in my bed. I circle my ankles around, making sure they aren’t injured before swinging my legs around the side of my bed. A sharp pain jabs into my left forearm, and I’m annoyed to see an IV pole holding a bag of saline plus lord knows what else feeding slowly into my arm.
As soon as I place both feet securely on the ground, I’m interrupted by a knock at the door. A nurse bustles into the room pushing a metal cart holding two covered food trays. "Did you have to use the restroom Mr. Richards?" She asks concernedly upon seeing my current position as she places the tray on my bedside table.
"Matter of fact, I could take a leak." The other patient piped up. "Sorry sir, didn't mean to answer for ya." He mutters, realizing the mistake he just made.
"I’m good thanks.” I answer. “Just stretching my knees a bit is all.” The nurse seems satisfied with that answer and walks beyond the curtain to the other side of the room. I hear him stop her as she places his tray down and whisper unintelligible something to her.
“Okay Mr. Barton, I don ‘t see any dietary restrictions on your chart so... this one time. But don’t be spreadin’ it around. Patients are supposed to eat what’s given to them at meal times. Someone finds out I made a vending machine run for you and they’ll all be askin’ me to do it.” He audibly agrees and thanks her as she leaves the room.
I hear him roll the table closer to himself and murmur, “Fuckin’ swedish meatballs and boiled cabbage?!? I ate better than this in jail.”
Once again, I painstakingly attempt to rise to my feet to confront my bodily intruder. The motions are easier this time, however the moment the weight of my standing frame registers in my legs, they buckle. It feels so surreal, me taking wobbly, baby steps towards the man who stole my life and body.
The curtain slides across the metal bar smoothly, and I see my roommate sit up in surprise. Soggy noodles from the meatball dish hang loosely from his mouth. I can see hundreds of possibilities race through his mind as the reason I might be on his side, maybe he’s hoping I don’t remember.
“Ok.” I begin, not wasting any time. “How the hell do we fix this? I got shit to do.”
He looks at me confusedly before answering slowly, saying each word as if speaking to a five year old who is hard of hearing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about dude. The meatballs really aren’t that bad, I promise. Try em!”
“Don’t try to be fucking cute.” I snap. “You know exactly that’s going on here. You don’t even know your own fucking middle name. Guess what? I do, because it’s mine. Now, switch back.”
He rolls his eyes, giving up the ghost. “Hey buddy I didn’t ask for this shit either. As far as I can tell though, you got the better deal here. You get to drive my gorgeous car around while I got your totaled, junker. And you get to fuck my gorgeous girl. As long as I’ve been in here, aint nobody came to see you. So, stop complainin’ and wise up. You aint got it so bad.”
Fury courses through my veins before I calm myself down by taking solace in the fact that he doesn’t seem to know anything about my kids. “The point is, that I want what’s mine. How do we fix this? Fuck sake I could be a serial killer for all you know.”
He laughs heartily at this, wincing in pain as chuckles jostle his ribs. “Wouldn’t begin to touch the things I’ve done.” The man snarls with pride.
Just then the nurse comes back into the room, handing him a small bag before winking and leaving again. The smile that lights up his face both chills and warms me at the same time. I’d never seen anyone so happy over a measly bag of peanuts. I look into the eyes that had once been mine and they are now filled with a malice I know my own soul couldn’t possibly possess.
He leans towards the side of the room that I occupy, still smiling brilliantly. “Hey there neighbor… want some?” As he says this, he rips the bag open and throws a palmful at me. Fucking rude, I think to myself. I pick a stray peanut out of the shirt pocket of my hospital gown and go to put it in my mouth, but stop suddenly.
My head feels overwhelmingly thick and fuzzy. The room begins to spin as I find it harder and harder to breathe. As I bring my hands to my throat I see they’re incredibly swollen, to the point where I can barely bend my fingers. My throat closes and I fall to the floor, hearing his maniacal laughter as I fade into unconsciousness.
*
I wake up in the same bed as before, a throbbing pain radiating through my upper thigh. A different doctor leers over me this time. His eyebrows shoot up in relief over his mask to see me open my eyes. “You gave us quite a scare. I can’t apologize enough. It clearly states on your chart that you have a severe peanut allergy. I have no idea how he got them. What an unfortunate mistake.” He runs his frail fingers through thinning hair before continuing. “Welp if it’s any consolation, you’ve been upgraded to a private suite.”
My lips still feel as thick as rubber snakes but I have to ask him before he leaves the room. “What happened to the man next to me?”
He smiles gently and assures me that I’ll have complete privacy before remarking, “He was discharged early this morning.”
---
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