Incredible beauty surrounds me. I sit in a field of wildflowers. There are poppies, crown vetch, asters, buttercups, and baby’s breath everywhere. It's like someone has poured great buckets of paint down the gently sloping hillsides. I can see hazy mountains in the distance and a clear glassy lake towards the far end of the field.

But something is wrong. And I don’t know what's wrong because it’s always this way. Something is always just little off.

I am always alone. And my mind is almost blank. The only thing that ever brings any memories to the surface is a voice. It comes from… outside. It's like a gigantic chalkboard. The thoughts and recollections appear on the dark surface like phantom writings and disappear in just the same way. I can't explain it.

Sometimes there are different voices, there is a constant smooth one, and a very deep one, as well as one that is usually choked up. I feel like I should know the voices, they’re always calling someone’s name.

“Hannah…” but I can only ever hear fragments of what the voices say. Then the pieces fade away like the ripples on my lake after I toss in a pebble. Nothing stays for long.

I want out.

.....

The heart monitor continued its slow, steady beep; unchanged. Her mother’s thumb rubbed small circles into Hannah’s limp hand. Tears rolled down the woman’s pale cheek as she heaved silent broken sobs over her daughter. Time and money were running low. It had been too long.

All she could do was pray for Hannah to wake up.

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