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When the past comes to haunt you
Nov. 5th, 2023 06:08 pmcw: trauma, injury and death.
Hjalmar didn't even know he was tossing and turning in his sleep, now leaving wet marks on the sheets from where he was sweating. The boy was having a nightmare because he was re-living his trauma. The reason why he drank himself into oblivion most days, ending up sick and depressed. The night his best friend and band mate died.
"Come on Hjalmar, pass the booze."
Nils shoved Hjalmar then stole the bottle off his friend as they drove along in the car down the busy Stockholm streets. It was dark because they were performing at a local club, just starting out as a rock band. They didn't even have a proper name yet and just called themselves "The Boys." It wasn't imaginative at all but it was something. Ticket sales were never great at these local clubs because not many people showed up. Still, Nils, Hjalmar, Benji and Markus were in the car speeding along enjoying themselves.
"You reckon anyone will show up tonight? We're all fucking smashed so we might play shit."
Nils just trying to focus on the road as his vision was now blurring due to the drugs and booze in his system. Should he be driving? No. The others were even more drunk than he was. Hjalmar was laughing and poking Benji, who was their drummer, sitting at the back with Markus, who was their bassist. Nils, was vocalist and very drunk.
"Fuck off will we be shit---"
Markus frowning at that just as he shoved Hjalmar from behind, causing him to nearly fall into Nils. There was an oncoming truck turning just as the car full of drunk rock stars came hammering along the road too fast. Much too fast. Hjalmar's eyes went wide just as he realised Nils was on the wrong side of the road. Fuck!
"Nils, you're on the wrong side of the fucking road! That truck it's too close---fuck, Nils what are you?--"
Hjalmar's words were cut off as there was no time. The car clipped the side of the truck and flipped over, scraping it's roof along the road as all rockstars tumbled inside, shouting, screaming. The sound of fear. No one was wearing a seatbelt. Hjalmar felt everything go black as a loud thump smacked inside his head. Then, the hot heat came and the searing pain. His vision went dark and the smashing of glass could be heard before everything went dark.
***
Sirens. Lots of blue light and sirens. Noise. Was he alive? Hjalmar couldn't move. He was strapped to a board and looking up at the pitch black sky. He couldn't hear. Had he gone deaf? His body felt dead. Oh fuck. Was he dying? There was pain all over but his head felt like a brick. He passed out again.
***
A hospital. He opened his eyes and saw a white ceiling but it was all blurry. Everything was blurry but he could hear voices. Lots of voices. Beeping. It was coming from the machine he was hooked up to. The pain had gone though and he was slowly coming to. Where was the car? Where were his band mates? He realised he was in a hospital bed and was plugged in to a monitor. Fuck! The guitarist had no words because all he could remember was that big truck turning onto the road---coming towards them but---they were going too fast and had clipped the side, flipping the car.
"Am I alive?"
Hjalmar felt like he was talking to himself. The words came out but he felt like this wasn't real. A doctor now coming to his bedside, checking on his vitals and replacing fluid in the IV bag hooked up to his left arm.
"Mr. Falkenberg? You're lucky to be alive. Your other friends in the car narrowly avoided losing their lives but they are stable. But---"
Hjalmar panicked, feeling he couldn't breathe. No! Fuck no---
"Where are they? Nils? Markus, Benji---they were in the car with me, they---"
The doctor placed a hand on Hjalmar's arm, comforting but looking rather sad. The poor young man.
"Benji and Markus are alive. They sustained broken bones and a bad concussion but they are alive. Nils, I am sorry, Hjalmar. But, Nils did not make it. He died instantly at the wheel with a broken neck. The paramedics did their best to revive him but there was nothing they could do."
Hjalmar felt his heart drop into his feet. This was bullshit! No! Fuck NO! Nils, he---he couldn't die. He was the band's singer. Hjalmar's best friend---no. Oh gods no.
"He's----dead?"
The doctor nodded solemnly.
Hjalmar had been the one passing the booze around the car, giving Nils gulps of it at the wheel and now he was dead.
***
"NO! NILS! The truck----it's coming! You're on the wrong side of the fucking road---you're--"
Hjalmar was now screaming in his sleep, yanking at the sheets, sweating feverish and mumbling.
Hjalmar didn't even know he was tossing and turning in his sleep, now leaving wet marks on the sheets from where he was sweating. The boy was having a nightmare because he was re-living his trauma. The reason why he drank himself into oblivion most days, ending up sick and depressed. The night his best friend and band mate died.
"Come on Hjalmar, pass the booze."
Nils shoved Hjalmar then stole the bottle off his friend as they drove along in the car down the busy Stockholm streets. It was dark because they were performing at a local club, just starting out as a rock band. They didn't even have a proper name yet and just called themselves "The Boys." It wasn't imaginative at all but it was something. Ticket sales were never great at these local clubs because not many people showed up. Still, Nils, Hjalmar, Benji and Markus were in the car speeding along enjoying themselves.
"You reckon anyone will show up tonight? We're all fucking smashed so we might play shit."
Nils just trying to focus on the road as his vision was now blurring due to the drugs and booze in his system. Should he be driving? No. The others were even more drunk than he was. Hjalmar was laughing and poking Benji, who was their drummer, sitting at the back with Markus, who was their bassist. Nils, was vocalist and very drunk.
"Fuck off will we be shit---"
Markus frowning at that just as he shoved Hjalmar from behind, causing him to nearly fall into Nils. There was an oncoming truck turning just as the car full of drunk rock stars came hammering along the road too fast. Much too fast. Hjalmar's eyes went wide just as he realised Nils was on the wrong side of the road. Fuck!
"Nils, you're on the wrong side of the fucking road! That truck it's too close---fuck, Nils what are you?--"
Hjalmar's words were cut off as there was no time. The car clipped the side of the truck and flipped over, scraping it's roof along the road as all rockstars tumbled inside, shouting, screaming. The sound of fear. No one was wearing a seatbelt. Hjalmar felt everything go black as a loud thump smacked inside his head. Then, the hot heat came and the searing pain. His vision went dark and the smashing of glass could be heard before everything went dark.
***
Sirens. Lots of blue light and sirens. Noise. Was he alive? Hjalmar couldn't move. He was strapped to a board and looking up at the pitch black sky. He couldn't hear. Had he gone deaf? His body felt dead. Oh fuck. Was he dying? There was pain all over but his head felt like a brick. He passed out again.
***
A hospital. He opened his eyes and saw a white ceiling but it was all blurry. Everything was blurry but he could hear voices. Lots of voices. Beeping. It was coming from the machine he was hooked up to. The pain had gone though and he was slowly coming to. Where was the car? Where were his band mates? He realised he was in a hospital bed and was plugged in to a monitor. Fuck! The guitarist had no words because all he could remember was that big truck turning onto the road---coming towards them but---they were going too fast and had clipped the side, flipping the car.
"Am I alive?"
Hjalmar felt like he was talking to himself. The words came out but he felt like this wasn't real. A doctor now coming to his bedside, checking on his vitals and replacing fluid in the IV bag hooked up to his left arm.
"Mr. Falkenberg? You're lucky to be alive. Your other friends in the car narrowly avoided losing their lives but they are stable. But---"
Hjalmar panicked, feeling he couldn't breathe. No! Fuck no---
"Where are they? Nils? Markus, Benji---they were in the car with me, they---"
The doctor placed a hand on Hjalmar's arm, comforting but looking rather sad. The poor young man.
"Benji and Markus are alive. They sustained broken bones and a bad concussion but they are alive. Nils, I am sorry, Hjalmar. But, Nils did not make it. He died instantly at the wheel with a broken neck. The paramedics did their best to revive him but there was nothing they could do."
Hjalmar felt his heart drop into his feet. This was bullshit! No! Fuck NO! Nils, he---he couldn't die. He was the band's singer. Hjalmar's best friend---no. Oh gods no.
"He's----dead?"
The doctor nodded solemnly.
Hjalmar had been the one passing the booze around the car, giving Nils gulps of it at the wheel and now he was dead.
***
"NO! NILS! The truck----it's coming! You're on the wrong side of the fucking road---you're--"
Hjalmar was now screaming in his sleep, yanking at the sheets, sweating feverish and mumbling.
