I Fell in Love with Hope - Lancali

“They hurt me.” His voice cracks. “Why do they hurt me?”
“Because they’re weak,” I explain. “Hurting you gives them power. Or
at least an illusion of it.”
“They want power?” Sam asks. “Like evil kings and queens in fairy
tales?”
“No.” I shake my head. “More like… Sailors,” I say, turning into his
room.
“It’s easier to pretend you, someone as small and weak as them, is
the enemy when there’s a whale circling the boat.”
I place Sam gently back in his bed. I ask him if his stomach still
hurts. He nods, squinting. I tell him I’ll go get help. He whines when I
try to leave, but it fades at the end. His eyes start to close, fluttering,
his consciousness slipping into the back of his head.
“Sam?” I call, but he doesn’t hear me. He’s gone, a fit overtaking
him. He must’ve hit his head in the closet. A seizure wounds his
nerves, convulsing through him.
I yell for someone, anyone, propping Sam on his left side. I yell so
hard my throat tears. And when the seizure ends Sam’s heart stops.
—
I can leave my body as I wish. That is how I can tell you things you
think I shouldn’t know. It is how I can be a narrator even for the
scenes I am not a part of.
Like people to the three thieves, a body is merely something through
which I can be perceived. All I have to do is be completely still, and
then I travel. Into the wall, the ceiling, the windows, anywhere at all. I
can spectate as any part of this place, not just the hospital, but the
stretch of its influence.