I’m not Nobody

Down Up, Up Down (NYC Midnight 1st round Finalist 2020) After a mishap while repairing the elevator, a young electrician awaits his turn for surgery. Not long after things begin to seem a bit dodgy… all his imagination, or is it? ******** I could hear the wheels squeaking as they brought a wheelchair into my room to take me down to theatre. I was sitting on the edge of the bed, blood dripping from my foot where my screwdriver was lodged. I had tried to kick it out of the way, but the end appeared to be stuck between the elevator doors. Second time this week, though this time I haven’t actually left from work. Last time it was a nail in the palm of my hand from the blasted nail-gun I was using to repair my fence. I’ve been sitting here for over an hour waiting for the orthopaedic surgeon. My friend slouched in the armchair across from me sighed as he looked at the time. 5.30 P.M. Most of the day staff would have gone home by now. Hungry and tired but slightly relieved knowing I would soon have this thing removed, and I would be able to walk freely again. This afternoon I had been working on a special project and seemingly it had gone wrong, hence why the other end is now in my foot. With difficulty I slid into the contraption and the nurse wheels me over to the elevator. Not really paying attention to my surroundings as I was preoccupied with the throbbing in my foot, I watch her press the arrow going up. Wait… isn’t theatre two floors down?! Assuming I’m the delusional one I just go along with the flow. I look down at the floor and watch as I leave a trail of dark-red blood along the corridor. We enter what appears to be a legit pre-op, but at this stage I’m too drowsy to make any sense of it. **** A little while later… I’m back in my room, there’s a thick layer of bandage wrapped firmly around my foot, and thankfully no screwdriver. I lay my head down on the dreadful pillow and close my eyes. In an hour or so I would be able to go home. **** Home couldn’t come fast enough. Looking like an idiot and crutches in hand, I hobble down the hall toward the elevator. Huh, that’s funny... ‘out of order’. Well, that certainly wasn’t there before. A spot of blood still on the floor from earlier that afternoon, and my toolbox sat staring at me waiting to be made useful. As I reach down to pick it up my friend casually walks up to me to stop me from trying to fix the fault myself. He starts explaining how we were both on the complot together. Earlier that afternoon we had managed to fool everyone that up was down and down was up. All we did was do some rewiring. Slowly everything came back to me. It all made sense now… the screwdriver, the blood, the sign which my friend had placed there just after I had gone to theatre. **** Much later… but how much later? Hmmm… interesting. I turn my head to the left to look out what I thought to be a window. Instead what I saw was my own reflection. I’m assuming it was a two-way mirror. Over in the far right-hand corner of my room was what I believed to be a security camera. But in my room?! Where could I have ended up I wonder. It’s certainly not your average hospital room. Once I regain all my consciousness I become more aware of my surroundings. I notice that I still have an IV-line in. I follow the thin plastic tube along with my eyes, and then I see it… a large bag clear bag with a red and orange warning label on it….Pentobarbital. I could feel the hair stand up all over my body as I stared wide eyed in fear at the label. I’m fairly certain, even though I’m no expert, that I’m not undergoing another operation, nor am I suffering from insomnia. Scanning the room I find that my operated foot has been cuffed to the bedpost. Now I’m definitely beginning to worry. Am I being held against my own will? I hear heavy footsteps coming towards my room. A tall broad-shouldered middle-aged man approaches me and squeezes with the IVF bag a bit and then leaves. I hear some muffled voices through the thick door, soon afterwards a nurse storms in with yet another bag of the same stuff, and hangs it on the other side, then inserts a large needle into my other arm while I try to resist as best I could. I started to feel dizzy at once. I knew this was not good. As soon as she left I immediately started to pull out IV lines. Now for the blasted metal thing around my ankle. I try to pull at it as hard as I could but to no avail. I need to get out of here fast. I’m stuck and have other alternatives. I my haste to escape my incarceration, I spot a pocketknife on the floor directly next to my bed which I assume fell out of the doctor’s pocket when he adjusted the IVF bag. I pick it up and sigh heavily. Oh well, guess I’m doing this. Painfully, I hobbled my way out to the carpark…one foot less.