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Shouting.
"******** STRAP HIM DOWN!"

"I-I'm trying! He's shaking all over the place!"

"Do I have to do it myself?!"

Where was he? He heard the squeeking of wheels, he felt his body shake.

Who are the voices? Where are they coming from? Why can't I see?

Were his only thoughts. His memory flashed to his descent into the tower, deeper and deeper, the cryptic messages etched into the wall. He remembered seeing his family, feeling immense pain, going blind, being unable to talk. He felt strong hands wrap leather straps onto his legs and arms. He felt a needle pierce his wrist. Suddenly, everything was very blurry, and he felt so tired. He wanted to scream, scream until his lungs gave out. The voices came again, then faded with time. He thought he was in hell, he always feared the dark, and his eyes wouldn't open. He tried talking but his tongue writhed blindly against his lips. He tried to keep his body still, that didn't work either. He had no control at all. All he could do was sit, and listen to the voices. He wasn't sure if they were the voices of hell, his own head, or something far more sinister.
"What happened to him?" A feeble voice, youth can be heard in it. The voice was female.
"Seizure, thought that was ********' obvious. Where did you get that nurses licence?" This voice was strong, but careless as well. A slight accent too. This voice was male.
Female: "I-"
Male: "Don't care. Sorry, finished that sent-"
The voice faded away along with his ability to stay awake.

He awoke to a blinding light, almost burning, and covered his eyes with his forearm. The arm had IVs in it along with a thin sheet of paper with a barcode and his name written on it. Across from him, a little nurse sat in a grey chair across the room. She saw him raise his hand and bolted upright. She smiled brightly at him and kissed his cheek. The room was white, glass walls seperated this room from a dim hallway. He could hear the steady beep of some machines next to him. A little lamp -the source of the godly white light- floated over his head, shaking ever so slowly.
"You're awake! Thank God, the doc. was gonna have my head if you didn't!" She laughed nervously, then added, "How are you feeling?"
"What the hell happened?"
"Seizure in the middle of the night. Some guard walked by your door and saw it. You're lucky you know."
So that's what had saved him. Blind luck, or was it? Zack didn't know, nor did he care much. He was alive.
Zack tried to sit up in his bed. A wave of nausia washed over him as memories floated by. He knew who he was. He knew what had happened. From the way things went, he could have- no- should have died. The nurse put her hand gently on his chest. He noticed, for the first time, that he was wearing a white medical gown. He wondered who pulled his pants down and put him in this, bareassed. His imagination wondered and he secretly hoped it was this nurse. She had straight black hair, incredibly beautiful features, and long golden legs. He gripped the sheets. Zack was suddenly grateful he had blankets covering most of his body.
The nurse walked away, turning her hips to the glass walls, She strode away with her medical shoes click-clacking down the linolium floor. He stole a glance at those hips, and some farther south too.
He sat in the bed just thinking about everything that had happened. He wondered if he was even alive or if this was the afterlife. If that were the case, angels were super models. Zack remembered Gate. The damned Gate. He killed his children, he killed the woman he loved. He didn't deserve to live, but maybe life was hell for him. Maybe God, or some other divine force, was punishing him. All that had happened was his fault. He could have shied out on Hannah on the subway. Regret washed over him, an old and familier feeling.
He could have fixed the damned T.V. hanging on just barely. That wouldn't have taken a single day. Just a screw driver and ten minutes. He could have just not eaten. All the same, it happened. It was his fault, that was the truth. Enduring the pain wouldn't get him anywhere closer to his family at all.
The nurse came back.
In her hand, she held a chart. She flipped the first page over and stared at the words. Zack wondered what those charts said.
"Well, looks like you're all good. You can leave in two hours, I'll get your stuff. The good doctor will be here in about tend minutes." She smiled and left the room, presumably to get his clothing together.
As if on cue, the doctor walked into the room exactly ten minutes on the dot. Zack had been watching the clock. He was rather skinny, brown wavy hair covering most of his head. he wore a white doctors coat and a black tie. Like any good doctor you see on T.V. on one of those commercials advertising some weight loss plan.
Unlike any good doctor, he didn't have a fake smile on his face. He had cold, dark, eyes, they made Zack uneasy. The eyes of a predator. He strode toward Zack, his shoes not making a single noise on the tile flooring. He offered his hand.
"Shake it."
He shook it.
"Good, let's get you up off your feet."
He pulled the IVs out mercilesly, but with trained precision. A slight sting and it was over.
Zack stood in front of this doctor, his doctor, and waited for instructions like a dog. The doctor looked at him with prying eyes from behind a clip board with Zack's chart on it.
"I'm Dr. Alister,"
"Zack Kevin."
"I know,"
"Okay." Zack said stupidly. The air around the two was tense, he could feel it. There was silence for a full ten minutes until the nurse arrived with Zack's things.