There had been pain, terrible pain, but now, nothing. I felt hands touch me, and voices a long way off. What sounded like male voice said, “He’s i... a coma.” A female voice responded, “Is he in pain? “No, he can’t see, hear or feel anything.” “How long?” “Another day or two at most. Just check that drip, there’s nothing more we can do now.” They were, of course, wrong about my not hearing. I heard, but the words had no impact. I knew they applied to me, yet it was as if they were talking about. His father grunted, "Oh for Christ sake," and tilted up a can of beer to drain it. Feeling stiff and awkward, Travis dived into the refrigerator and took a chunk of cheese and a bottle of milk. "Sit right there and finish your snack," his mother ordered. "I won't let your father drive you out of your own kitchen." Travis sat down and watched his dad slam out of the room; in a moment, he heard the tinkle of ice into a glass, and knew his. More

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