Apollo’s eyes burned upon awakening, blinking a few times to a blinding light stationed above him. For some odd reason, there was a man and a woman looking down on him with mixtures of concern and delight written into their speculative eyes. The woman to his left seemed almost angelic in presence and wore an honest smile only a caring mother could give to her children. She had long black hair braided at the front, and soft, creamy-beige features.

Apollo followed the woman’s eyes as she looked to the gentleman across from her, saying something to him Apollo couldn’t quite make out. Judging from the white coat and spectacles resting against his nose, Apollo assumed he was a doctor of some sort, scribbling inside the notepad resting against his forearm.

Somewhere close by, a machine pinged in slow melancholic rhythms with his heart.

“Apollo,” the woman said, placing her hand gently across his arm, “do you remember me?” Apollo matched her eyes. “It’s me, Joy.” She smiled. “I’m so glad you woke up.”

Apollo tried sitting up as the wires attached to his body stretched and pulled. A gnawing pain ripped through his head as he gritted his teeth and winced. He reached up with his free hand to locate the source of the pain, finding what appeared to be an elastic bandage wrapped tightly around his head.

“No, Apollo.” The doctor pushed him down to rest. “You must remain still during this time,” he said. ”I’m Dr. Warren Lorenzo, and I’ve been monitoring your status over the past nine days. The date today is Friday, June twenty-fourth.”

Silence filled the room now. Dr. Lorenzo and Joy peered at him thoughtfully, expecting a response. Apollo turned his head instead to survey his surroundings. The movement sent a sharp pain to his temples and radiated behind his eyes. He gritted his teeth again, the machine monitoring his heart rate pinging faster.

“Apollo, you must relax,” Dr. Lorenzo said, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, Apollo,” Joy said, holding onto his other shoulder. Her touch was soft and soothing. The machine gradually pinged back to its slow rhythmic state as Apollo took a few deep breaths.

Apollo took a subtle glance at the window to his left, the blinds partially opened, allowing the sun to cast a bit of light inside the room. He looked at the clock above the door: 9:19 a.m.

Scanning the rest of his surroundings, there was a chair near the door, an oil painting of a flower hanging on the wall near the window, a microwave sitting on the counter near the sink with a napkin dispenser above it, and a heap of intimidating medical equipment scattered around the room.

“How are you feeling this morning, Apollo?” Dr. Lorenzo asked.

Apollo made no commitment to look at him, staring blankly at the time.

Now it was 9:20 a.m.

“Do you know where you are, Apollo?” Dr. Lorenzo asked, staring at him with iron-gray eyes that matched the color of his hair. “You’re at Sauga’s General Hospital.” Dr. Lorenzo continued to scribble some more notes. After he was finished, he rested his notepad on the table beside Apollo’s bed. “All right, Apollo, I’m going to drag this pen from left to right, and I’d like you to follow along with it as best you can, okay?”

Apollo carefully tracked the pen’s whereabouts, sharp pains ripping across his temple every time Dr. Lorenzo brought his pen too far left or too far right. The same occurred whenever he dragged the pen up and down.

After the assessment, Apollo returned his gaze toward the ceiling, trying to come up with an explanation of how he ended up in a hospital room with people he’s never seen before. Or was this nothing but a dream?

“Is he going to be all right?” Joy asked.

Dr. Lorenzo was silent for a while, often taking casual glances in Apollo’s direction to pen down more notes. “He’s showing signs of gradual improvement,” he said, admiration as well as befuddlement detected in his tone.

“Did you hear that, Apollo?” Joy said.

“He’s co-operative, he’s responsive, and seems to be aware of his surroundings for the most part.” Dr. Lorenzo rested his hands behind his back and slowly moved around the room. “As you can see, he’s tracking my whereabouts as I’m walking around. Some coma patients, upon waking up, their visual and auditory tracking are still somewhat impaired.” Apollo took another glance at the clock: 9:25 a.m. “So it’s amazing to see how quickly he’s been able to recover some of his basic senses,” Dr. Lorenzo said, standing in front of the door. “The things we need to work on now are speech and basic motor functions like standing, walking, and sitting.”

“And how long do you think it will take him to reacquire his basic motor functions?” Joy asked, stroking her thumb across Apollo’s hand.

“It’s tough to say,” he said, stroking the subtle gray hair on his chin. “It often depends on the individual. My guesstimate would be anywhere between four and six weeks.” He twisted his face like he wanted to change his answer. “The latest eight weeks, but at the rate that he’s going, I doubt it will take him that long.”

Joy looked down and smiled. “I’m so proud of you, Apollo. I always knew you were stronger than this.”

Apollo slowly matched her eyes, trying to find meaning in her words. Where did he hear that phrase before? The manner in which she spoke, she obviously seemed to have known who he was. Have they met before? Perhaps this was in fact nothing but a dream he’d eventually awake from. Apollo’s eyes started to grow heavier, his head tilting ever more toward his right.

A soft hand came resting gently upon the bandages over his forehead. “Sleep comfortably, Apollo,” Joy whispered, her breath as gentle as a feather brushing by his ear.

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