the white light burns lines into my retinas; i huff at the ceiling. i sit up, a throbbing in my stomach makes itself known as i do so, i wince. the constant beeping of machines drills into my head like a metronome and i mentally beep along inside my own head. beep. beep. beep.

im going insane.

its quite claustrophobic to be hooked up to a machine. the stark white walls and floor blends with the harsh light above you - like how the movies describe heaven. i guess they want to give the patients comfort for when they eventually pass away inside the white room.

it also allows you to think. ive been doing a lot of thinking. thinking about death, about life, and ive come to terms with most of it. dont get me wrong, knowing the exact date of your death is scary, and knowing youll never see anyone you love again is daunting - especially when you havent told Them.

i smile dispite the bitterness. they never fail to bring a smile on my face. even if ill never see them again in a matter of days. the most hurtful thing about all of this is knowing the people around you will move on. they have to. and its not like you can console them, ive learned it makes them cry harder. you have to smile at them and say "ill never leave you. you can move on, and ill always be there, loving and protecting you." - i wont lie, ive shed some tears myself. but even then, i try not to let them see how pained i am to let go.

a cough brings me back to reality as i look over to find the source. the coma patient beside me splutters, like they hadnt had a drink in years. his throat sounds scratchy and i can feel the desert that is his throat as if its my own. i blink, turning my head, my bruised neck aching as much as my stomach. he writhes in his bed, sweat drips down his forehead as a pained expression crosses his face. "i didnt mean to... come back to me... i- i- i didnt mean to kill you..."

he calms down slowly, and suddenly constant beeping of the machines is comforting. beep. beep. beep. my heavy breathing breaks the rhythm; i let out a breath i didnt know i was holding. in the ward for patients who are unlikely to recover, you deal with a lot of death. a lot of pain. a lot of- well- suffering. but ive never heard of murder on this floor. maybe the odd "ill pull your life support" joke- but... nothing like that.

i listen to the steady beep, beep, beep. i wait. thinking carefully about whether i should just share what i have just heard...