Warning: this one is very long but I really didn't want to split it into chapters. There is not a lot of sex in it (it is in the romance section) and it is definitely not a quick tug story. My apologies for any mistakes, particularly in the medical details, that is not an area of expertise for me.
As usual it is my own work and isn't to be reproduced without permission.
Please feel free to vote and or comment, I'd love to hear what you think. BB1212
There was no single point in time where you could say I woke up. Or regained consciousness. I gradually became aware of extreme pain, but it wasn't as if the pain was suddenly increasing. No, it had always been there, just as strong, but I simply hadn't realised that it was pain before. My realisation that it was pain kind of phased in, and soon enough I felt like I was drowning in a bottomless sea of agony. It was so bad that I couldn't work out where the pain was, it was just everywhere. I vaguely remember trying a couple of times to work out where the pain wasn't, but that didn't work either. The pain was a monstrous thing that wrapped around me, and penetrated me right to my core. It was omnipotent, ever present, all seeing and totally pervasive. Even when the regular, but not nearly frequent enough, calming rush of what I later found out to be morphine brought some fuzzy relief, the pain still didn't go away. It just stepped back as I soared on the strange and drugged-out winds of chemical fantasy. It watched malevolently as my mind drifted off to strange places that I had never been to, or even heard of. Places of the fevered imagination, of dragons, of flying people and of talking animals. But even then, in those far off fantasy worlds, I knew the pain was waiting. It was just biding its time, and the drug fueled hallucinations began to incorporate a sinister and dangerous edge of fear. I didn't want to return, I wanted to just keep floating away and escape the pain forever. I searched for the way out, I chased after it in my mind but for some reason my mangled body and my drugged out semi-consciousness would not permit me to leave.
I vaguely remember voices, usually female, and lights. Not 'the light', my way to escape, just drug diffused regular lights. I vaguely remember cries of distress that occasionally weren't mine. I vaguely remember flickering movement and noise. I vaguely remember being held down. But these things were just fleeting snippets of awareness that punctuated the pain. They were the tiny high points that seemed to only be there to make it more obvious how low the low points really were. I had no sense of time. I remember voices around me, but it was like the people were talking another language or were under water. The voices were frustratingly indecipherable and my brain eventually stopped struggling to understand and just gave up and let the noise wash past me. To my battered consciousness it was just a rambling bunch of incomprehensible sounds drifting down the relentless river of life as I absently watched from afar.
Then I remember laughing. Not happy laughing but vicious, malicious laughing. When this happened, the fuzzy relief wasn't nearly as noticeable as I had come to expect, and the pain laughed manically too as it remained in control and prevented my drug fueled flight.
"Who are you?" a quiet, feminine voice asked. It took me a while to realise that the noise was words and that I had actually understood the words. My heart soared as I suddenly realised that I must be on the way back from wherever it was that I had been. But then I tried to think of the answer and I came to the horrifying realisation that I couldn't answer the question. I don't mean that I was physically unable to talk, which was certainly the case, I mean that I didn't have that information available. I had absolutely no idea who I was. I couldn't remember my name, and on top of that I also didn't know where I was from or what I did for a living. I could suddenly remember lots of relevant questions, but I didn't know any of my answers to them. I froze up in panic.
"I know who he is," a second voice said, and the words were dripping with contempt. Somehow, I knew that the nasty voice matched the evil laugh. I waited, hoping desperately to hear her next words, but the voices faded away as the pain came rushing back, seeking once again to invade my helpless body. But this time it wasn't just physical pain, it was mental pain too. I hadn't realised up until that point that I had no memories, but now I was suddenly faced with the fact that I had just a basic awareness. I was only the broken physical outline of a person without any detail of who or what that person actually was.
The lights and the blurs eventually morphed into the vague shadows of people, then the vague shadows of people eventually morphed into actual people, and those people were all nurses and doctors. I had already guessed that I was in a hospital, but the reason became obvious as I discovered that my left leg was in traction and both of my arms were in full casts. I had bandages covering parts of my head, chest, left hand and my left leg.
"What is your name?" I looked beside my bed and struggled to focus. Eventually I saw a woman of about forty staring at me with a somewhat disapproving frown. She was in a spotless white nurse uniform, and her black hair was tied back in a very severe looking bun.
"It's... it's... uh, don't... remember..." I croaked. Even my voice wasn't working properly. Strangely the nurse smiled at my response, and when she did, she looked so different that it was almost as if a new person had arrived.
"You're with us at last," she said happily.
"How... long...?" I was trying to talk, but it felt like my throat didn't know how to.
"I'll try and answer all of your questions at once," she mercifully interrupted. "We don't know who you are, but you were brought in eleven weeks ago after a serious car crash." I mentally reeled, realising I had been unconscious in hospital for almost three months.
"Do you remember what happened?" I shook my head a tiny bit. Damn that hurt.
"Your car went off the road near the top of Hansard Mountain," I knew Hansard Mountain, it was spectacularly steep, and very rugged going.
"You went about eight hundred metres down the side, and the car was burnt out and totally unrecognisable." She looked at me for a moment.
"You were totally unrecognisable too. You were the only survivor, and there were many times when we didn't think you'd pull through." I shivered. There was someone else in the car too. Was I driving? Then the fog started to come back and the nurse started to get blurry again.
"You have no ID and the car was registered to your boss, but even he has no idea who you really are..." Then I was gone again, the real-world ghost returning to his fantasy world where the ghosts were suddenly real.
I developed a new nightmare after that brutal revelation. A nightmare that consisted almost entirely of tortured screams and tearing metal. Of huge jagged immovable rocks that effortlessly and uncaringly ripped through steel and flesh and of flying slivers of blood red broken glass. This macabre nightmare was harshly lit by an evil flickering fire that licked at my legs, coming closer and closer while I was broken, trapped and totally unable to get away. The nightmare looked like a classical old testament depiction of hell, it sounded like four horror film soundtracks playing simultaneously, and it smelled like charred flesh and burnt hair.
Eventually I began to have more frequent moments of reality. It didn't stop my pain, but I was mostly able to understand it. I slowly discovered what parts of me had been broken, what had been burned, and I began to mentally deal with the damage to my body. It occurred to me that my prolonged and agonised suffering could be a karmic punishment that I had been given just for surviving. The nurse who had told me what had happened was Charlotte, and she was the Head Nurse. She came to talk to me a few more times but steered our short conversations away from any further discussion about the details of the accident. I did find out that my seat belt had partially crushed my windpipe, and that was why talking was still so difficult for me. But I always tried to croak something out every time there was someone nearby, and with time and use it slowly began to improve. Nobody would tell me who had died in the car crash, but from the way they all looked at me I knew I was responsible.
One day they closed the curtains around my bed and positioned a sheet over my waist as a screen so that I couldn't see my legs. Doctor Arnold was the doctor who I saw most frequently, and I had been told he had saved my life when he provided some very unconventional treatments which had been brought about by desperation. I owed him big time. To look at him you would be hard pressed to believe he was a doctor. He was very short and rather overweight which made him look round. He also had curly bright red hair and a very patchy red beard. Doctor Arnold and Charlotte were checking the progress of my skin grafts and burns treatments. I felt them moving my hospital gown up and then there was a very vague sensation in my groin.
"Is that painful?" Doctor Arnold asked. I shook my head. He grunted and ducked behind the sheet. I heard a murmur that sounded far too much like 'nerve damage' and once again I was thrown into a state of panic. I hadn't been at all concerned about my cock because it hadn't hurt, but now I realised that I also hadn't had any sensations from it at all. I faded off into a new nightmare, one in which my cock and balls were entirely destroyed, replaced by a repulsive and festering mound of scorched flesh. Sleeping was becoming a form of torture to me, and I was moved into a private room because my night time screams and moans were disturbing the other patients in my ward.
"Why," I asked Susan one day, "does Vicky hate me?"
Susan coughed and turned away, her face flaming red as it frequently did. Susan looked for all the world like she was about twelve years old. She had a slim boyish figure, and her white uniform hung pretty much straight down in those places where tits and ass would enticingly shape those of the other nurses. Her medium length dirty blonde hair was almost always done up in childish looking pigtails and she never wore any makeup or jewellery at all. Apart from her very professional approach to her job you would swear that she was just some kid playing dress ups. But Susan was the only one who looked at me as if I was a real person. Sure, she sometimes looked scared of me, but she often looked a touch sorry for me too.
"I don't know," she mumbled guiltily, still averting her gaze.
"Don't lie," I growled, and her neck turned a deeper red, proving to me that I had guessed right.
"Ask her," Susan said quickly, and she hurriedly left.
I felt guilty for making her feel so bad, but I really had to know why Vicky was so much against me.
