His heart tapped a slow rhythm in his chest. The blackness behind his closed eyes seemed infinitely vast.
In his mind he reached out, flowing into that darkness. There was a painful tearing sensation, but he was prepared for that – he had made it this far before. Fighting off the rising panic that this was not right, not natural, he continued to pull. His mind clung to his body by a mere thread, and he struggled and grasped for a handhold in the dark void enclosing him. Suddenly he was wrenched violently back into his body, and his eyes shot open.
“Why John, you’re sweating again. Are you feeling ok?”
His nurse leaned in, her brow creased with worry, holding a plastic cup with his medication. “Let me call an orderly, and we’ll get you back to bed.”
He glared at her, annoyed that she had interrupted another attempt. He had been so close! Blowing through the tube that controlled his wheelchair, he fled the room in disgust. Soon, though, he would break free, and the world would pay for what was done to him.