Foreign

But he certainly did not seem to be a nurse. No, even the whole room didn't seem to belong to a hospital. The furniture seemed to be made of solid wood. The room was far too big. Far too pompous. Like a princess' room... from another time. Old. Antique. And somehow... FOREIGN. Unknown. Suddenly there was a shadow above my head. I closed my eyes in a hurry. It was like, if I can't see him, he can't see me. But he saw me. Saw me far too well. Saw me in a light I couldn't see myself in. Suddenly, a hand on my forehead. I winced. Prohibited myself from lifting my eyelids.

"Do not be afraid."

I didn't understand anything. The language was strange to me. Foreign, like everything here. I wanted home.

He whispered softly, but again I didn't move. I didn't understand a word he said. Because this language didn't resemble any of the languages I knew. But I knew very few. Three languages. Maybe four. Nothing more. I stayed in bed. Motionless. I didn't dare to move. I didn't dare to open my eyes. As if that could protect me. I was naive. Far too naive. But I didn't know any better. The hand came off my forehead. Caressing my hair. Lightly. Comforting.

"There's nothing to be afraid of." The voice seemed soft. Friendly. As if it were trying to lure me. But I'm holding on. Kept my eyes closed. As if it could save me. A hand moved under my head. Lifting it slightly. Something cool touched my lips. Glass.

"You must drink this."

Silence.

"Just a sip or two." Liquid wet my lips. I should drink. What?

I shook my head. The glass lost its hold. Liquid ran down my chin. Dripping on my chest.

"Just a sip," The voice begged. My eyelids fluttered open. I looked into the face of a stranger. Young. Twenty. Perhaps a little older. His face spoke of sorrow. But in his eyes, I was reading more.

Sadness... Pain... Anxiety... Rage...?

I tried to make sense of it. Just closed my eyes for a moment before I opened them again. But the tears in his eyes remained. Should I trust him? Should I dare? Carefully he pushed the glass to my lips, so carefully that I thought it could break me, as if I was much more fragile than glass. But was it not the other way around? At that moment I was no longer sure. I started to drink. It tasted salty, metallic, foreign. Six swallows. Seven. Even drinking was painful. It burned like liquid fire in my throat. The glass disappeared from my lips. Gently, the stranger lowered my head again. Pain. On a soft pillow.

His expression softened. Not as tensed. As if the sorrow were draining from his thoughts. Even a soft smile seemed to be on his lips. It felt like it was getting wider with every breath I took? Happier. Every breath that made my eyelids grow heavier.