Page 45 - Noss Magazine

the sound of the footsteps that it was my doctor and my caretaker.
Mark Architecture 2018 —2020
Robinson Portfolio
A little hope blossomed within me, and I tried to move my fingers,

but my efforts were futile. The doctor approached to conduct the

routine check-ups. He opened my eye and shone a bright light. The

light burned my eye like dragon fire, and he closed my eye before

I can see anything. He moved my feet, and my legs, checked my

breathing, and turned to my caretaker: “Even though it has been

five years today, he is still unconscious. Even if he gains conscious-

ness it is not likely for him to ever move again.”

“Are you sure doctor? Maybe he will get on his feet tomorrow.”

She muttered into oblivion.

“If it was up to me, I would give him euthanasia, but the family

doesn’t allow me. He neither has consciousness, nor any move-

ment. Just an empty body.”

“Don’t say that, What if it makes him sad?”

“Don’t worry, he can’t hear us. The only difference between

him and that pillow is that he has the body of a human. He neither

can think, nor hear.”

I could both hear, and think. The only thing he was right about

was euthanasia. His words made me want to reunite with nothing-

ness, however I was so helpless that, I couldn’t even kill myself.

Even though I heard the doctor, who is the only man that can make

me reunite with oblivion, I had never seen his face before. On the

other hand, he couldn’t hear my silent voice, and could see my face

that even I forgot.

After the doctor left the “hopeless” my caretaker penetrated a

needle in my arm, and the cold liquid attacked my veins. It was a

breakfast that I hated.

While leaving, my caretaker played a song on a device I know

nothing about. It was the same melody as always. I listened to it so

many times that it made me want to shred my own ears. The silent

guitar sounds continued no-stop for hours.

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