Night of Delirium

“I wanted to experiment. I’ve never been proper drunk. Never done drugs stronger than codeine after my surgery and that was enough to make the walls floppy! So, what happens when you consume too much alchohol and drugs. I wanted to find out and so I used my words to put me in that situation. What do you think …”

I wrote this story in answer to the following prompts:
Ragtag Daily Prompt — Laughter
Pensitivity’s Three Things Challenge — Nod, Substantial, Period
Fandango’s One Word Challenge — Blur

Night of Delirium

Can’t focus. Everythings a blur. Crowd; all around me. Unfocused, hazy. Loud. Laughter. Happy chatter assaulting my ears.

Why am I staggering? Want to walk normally. Can’t control my feet. Anxiety. “Ahh, uhh!” fear growing. Lips and throat dry. Balance gone. What happened to me?

“Ha, look at him. Space-out drunk!” said a man with a nod in my direction.

Laughter — directed at me. Breathing becoming laboured. Chest heavy. Everything spinning. Delirium. Eyes heavy. My shoulder strikes a soft object.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!”

A leather bag smashes into my face. Lightning flashes in my vision. Darkness.

Stomach burning. Knee’s on cold ground. Vomiting. Feeling stuck in a washing machine on spin cycle. Head pounding like a pneumatic drill. Laughter.

“Wow! Looks like he’s had a substantial gob-full of alcohol,” jeered someone in the crowd.

I … tea total. Never … drink. Only lemon…ade with fish and ch….” Freezing cold. Body shivering. Everything wavering, swimming before me. Lights too bright, burning my retinas. Staggering to my feet. Equilibrium gone. Staggering, falling. Water looming. Crashing into a railing saves me from falling into the river.

Laughter

“Whoops! He nearly fell in the drink.”

“Yeah, that would have been bad!”

A hand claps my shoulder with great force.

“Take it easy, buddy. Don’t wannabe fish food!”

Laughter

“Tham … thak—er thanks, maaate!” Words not forming. Slurred incomprehensible. Brain fog. Poisoned! Was I poisoned? Adrenaline coursing. Fear rising. Staggering onward. Car horn blaring. Pain shooting through my knees. Tumbling. Yellow lines striking my face. Terror — I’m laying in the road. Unable to move.

“Somebody called an ambulance!”

Vanilla. Lavender. Freesia. Perfume invading my nostrils. Friendly face. Soft black air, dancing above me. “Hap—per. Hell … er help!”

“It’s going to be okay, sweetheart. Just lay still.”

Angel glowing. Touching, holding protecting me. Safe now. Darkness

The darkness held me for an unknown period. Blinking. Senses returning. Bright white light. Incessant beeping. Heart rate monitor. I’m in the hospital. Pain. Surging from my knees, melding with the ache within my ribs and the pounding in my skull.

“Ah, you’re awake, Mason. I’m Doctor Hamilton. How do you feel?”

“What hap—” mouth desert dry. Choking.

“Easy, big fella. You consumed way too much alcohol and drugs last night.” The doctor leaned over me. “Here, drink this, slowly.”

Cold liquid. Fresh tasting water. Rejuvenating. “Thank you.”

“You’re, welcome. What do you remember from last night?”

Casting back. Lightning striking brain. Laughter. Blurry crowds. Nothing making sense. Memories discombobulated. Fish — sharpness returning. “I only had lemonade and fish and chips last night!”  

“Your toxicology would disagree. You consumed at least twenty units of alcohol. That’s like twenty shots of vodka,” explained Doctor peering at my chart through his thick black-rimmed glasses.

“I didn’t drink that. My only drink was lemonade.”

 “Had you said that an hour ago, I would have called you a liar.” The doctor replaced my chart at the foot of the bed. “The police are on their way. You see, we also discovered Rohypnol in your system. Nobody takes that stuff willingly. You were without doubt drugged.”

Stomach-churning. Burning. Dry retching, “Urgh, will I recover?”

“Oh, Yes. Give yourself forty-eight hours to purge the alcohol and drugs and you’ll be as right as rain. I’ll be back when the police arrive.” The doctor left closing the curtain around my bed.

“Thanks, Doctor,” collapsing back on the pillow. Ceiling spinning above me. Vinegar smell. Heavy eyes closing. I remember sitting in the restaurant. Fish and chips arriving. Pint of lemonade. Gasping. I remember it being stronger lemonade than I’d expected. Lemon flavoured vodka. I’d unwittingly drunk a pint of vodka. Why? Why had somebody done that to me?”

Curtains opening, “There you are, Mason.”

Opening my eyes. A new man standing there. Black beard, tired eyes. Don’t recognise him. Recognise him! He was in the restaurant. My server. Panic rising. chest tightening. “You! You made me drunk, drugged me!” I mumble.

“Shush! You weren’t supposed to leave the restaurant. You won’t leave the hospital!”

Syringe. Savage smile.

“He’s going to poison me!” I scream.

The man tenses. Shaking. Shivering. Crumpling to the floor beside my bed.

Taser barbs sticking out of his back. Two police officers entering my bed space and arresting him. “Good morning, sir. Seems we arrived in the nick of time.”

“Thank you, officer.” Relief coming as tears. Darkness.

I would awaken twenty-four-hour later and feel much more myself. The events of that night always remained a blur. There would be the odd period of clarity pulling pieces of the puzzle together. Still, I would never know why that man targeted me. Never know why he drugged and tried to kill me.

I tell my story to urge you all to be careful what you drink. Never leave your glass unoccupied. Always buy your own beverages. Don’t drink, if you have any doubt or are already feeling the influences of the alcohol. Please, if you see somebody staggering around. Don’t laugh at them, call the police. Help them in any way you can. Their health is in danger — save them.

One more thing. If you know the lady who saved my life that night. Please thank her for me.

The End

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