Lying in the hospital bed, McKain slowly opened his eyes.
How had he eluded death again? How the hell had he escaped a locked casket, post marked for the Grim Reaper? The Dark Requiem had plummeted him towards hell, and made sure he would travel faster by putting that gaping hole in the coffin before shoving it into the lake. He had been immersed in water and too weak and beaten to fight his way out. He had hit rock bottom, and lay there, as death slowly took him over.
Yet, now he was here. How?!
His eyes stung, and the sounds around him were echoing, and strange. He couldn't hear correctly, but at least he was alive. The EKG machine beeped softly, and showed a normal heart rate, which relaxed him slightly. Still, he was uneasy. What had happened in that abyssal place? How had he escaped death?
Why am I alive?
It wasn't your time to die, McKain. Live.
McKain shot upright, the EKG suddenly spiking. He couldn't hear right, yet that voice had been clearer than day- and he thought he recognized it.
Where are you?!
Don't worry about me. Just rest for now. In time, you'll be able to make your move.
That voice had been in his head! Someone nearby was speaking to him through his mind. The nurses had rushed in, and attempted to calm him. Fearing it was a delusional episode, they sedated the injured man, hoping to relax him before he tore any stitches or made any injury worse. Seeing no one in the room, they looked at each other, worried about who he might have been speaking to, and hoped things would change for the beaten man.
As they laid him under the covers, they flipped off his lights, and exited the room. Outside of the window, two eyes lit up, staring inside, but slowly turned and faded from view, as Kevin McKain's heart slowed again, and his body slept, healing and rebuilding itself.