Pain shot through Voltaire’s chest like someone was beating a drum inside of his chest. He felt like he could not breathe anymore. Voltaire lay on the bed motionless. He felt as if he was floating above his body listening to his body gasping for breath like radio static. His blood boiled in his body as he felt drool on his face. Voltaire slowly gained back control of his body and then he hugged his blanket like he use to do when he was a child. He wished Quinn had a phone so he could call her and explain they should be together. The kiss wasn’t enough. He should have really swept her off her feet. He had messed up when he kissed her lips. Voltaire drowned in his own exhaustion.
In his worst nightmares, Voltaire could feel the doctor’s cold bench. Those cold gloved hands touched him as the dark world temporarily gave way to perfect light. He saw the doctor’s office for a brief second and the doctor could see him. He took in the tall doctor’s bird-like nose, large eyes, and thick beard. He saw the computer in the background, the peeling paint on the walls, the bullet holes in the ceiling, the fan with the blade that spun so fast it looked invisible, and the light bulb that shone like a small sun. Then it all faded.
“…metamaterials in your body guide light around your body. You are invisible from within. The light travels around your eyes so you are losing your vision. These flashes of visibility are dying as your DNA stabilizes… you will be like this for the rest of your life… you are losing your vision … you cannot go home… How long do you honestly believe you can keep this a secret? …”
Voltaire found himself on the floor. He wondered if he fell asleep or blacked out as he tried to sit up, but his muscles were clenched and he could barely move. His hands were clammy and he was shaking uncontrollably. Voltaire tried to sit up, only he was struck by a spike of pain that shot through his brain. The man threw up his liquid diet. Weakly, he shifted his muscles so he was not in too much pain. As he painfully sat up against the wall, Voltaire thought he heard something moving in his room.
“Who is there?” Voltaire asked. “Get out or I will hurt you.”
“You are losing your vision…” said the voice. “You are losing my love…”
Disclaimer: This is an original story that is not based on any real people or events. It is a work of fiction that is purely to acknowledge and develop the character of Voltaire’s complex-emotions and motivation.