Well being in the dark throes of depression really doesn't sit well with me so instead of trying to force some writing, here is a piece I wrote last year.
There is no title but I suppose the title of this blog would be an alright substitute.
“Now remember, it may take a while to get used to them, Abigail.”
The smooth voice drifted into her ears as she was led into a room on shaky steps, supported by Doctor Rhoads. She knew she was in safe hands but it did nothing to alleviate the pain in her stomach. A gentle hand, slightly rough from hard work, grasped her trembling hands and pressed her into a chair. Abigail nodded, trying to follow the doctor’s soft footsteps. A door opened and feet shuffled in.
“Ah, Mr Williams. Right on time, we’re just about to start,” came the gentle words from Rhoads. Abigail settled into the chair, fingers twitching and picking at skin.
Abigail blinked uncertainly as a shadow passed her. The squeak of plastic on tiles and the gentle brush of a coat against her leg made her flinch. A soft raspy chuckle coaxed a smile to her lips.
“Didn’t mean to make you jump, sweetheart,” Mr Williams whispered over the groan of leather. A heavy sigh followed and Abigail smiled again. “Must be the fourth time this week that’s happened.”
She huffed. “Feels more like the thirtieth, sir.”
A sudden slam of a door made her jump, head snapped towards the noise. Gentle fingers rested on her forearm calmed her racing heart.
“That was only Doctor Rhoads. She’s a noisy bugger, isn’t she?” Mr Williams said, laughter in his voice as the pressure left her arm.
“I can kick you out of this examination room, Williams. Make no doubt about that.”
Abigail smiled. She tilted her head to the right, searching for Doctor Rhoads’ soft voice. Her stomach clenched, her throat suddenly felt too dry. Stretching a hand to her left, hesitant fingers clutched the thin air.
“Hang on,” Mr Williams said. The groan of leather and the sudden trickle of water made her pause. A glass was pressed into her hands.
“Thank you,” Abigail muttered, taking a sip of water. The twisting pain in her stomach subsisted slightly. Holding the glass aloft, it was carefully taken from her hands. The clink of glass on metal made her blink. Hurried footsteps echoed around the room, the clock ticked loudly in her ears as hands trembled in her lap.
“Everything’s done. We can begin if you’d like, Abigail,” Doctor Rhoads voice came from her right. Turning her head, she nodded slowly. “Close your eyes.”
A hand squeezed hers as something cold pressed against her closed eyelids. Shivering, she tried to move away but firm hands held her head in place.
“You need to keep still, we don’t want you getting hurt.”
Abigail felt fingers brush hair from her forehead. The cold seeped into her eyelids then into her eyeballs, making her whine quietly. Minutes or hours passed without another sound until the cold slowly disappeared.
“Don’t open your eyes, just sit still,” Doctor Rhoads whispered as hands left her head. “Don’t get your hopes up, it might not work right away.”
Or not at all, she thought as shivers ran through her body. A soft pat on her shoulder let her know she could open her eyes.
She winced, blinking rapidly against the brightness as the environment began to focus and two beaming faces came into startling clarity. Tears sprang to her eyes and Abigail laughed brokenly.
She could see.