Writers debate: Fiction

Jason was overcome by a feeling of immobility from the chair as he heard shouting in the background but he couldn't see anymore. He felt an electric jolt, and then was out of breath. Were they interrogating him? Another jolt, and he began to pant. He couldn't move his arms of legs, but he realized that his eyes were closed. "Jason?" His mother was standing over him. Jason nearly broke out into tears. "Jason, are you alright?" "I..." Jason didn't believe what he was seeing, as he choked on the intimating tube in his throat. A nurse promptly removed it. "Mom... you're alive!" He exclaimed. "Of course I'm alive, Jason!" Jason's mother tightly embraced him, even though he was attached to a respirator and there was an IV in his arm. "Of course I'm here, son!" Jason looked around and realized that he was in a hospital room, but he couldn't remember how he got there or why he was there. He could only remember killing his father, running frantically and being sentenced to death. "Where am I?" Jason asked. "You're at a hospital outside of Washington." A nurse informed him. "You've been unconscious for almost ten months." Jason looked down at the blanket below and saw the outline of only one leg below. He looked at his hands, and he saw that he was missing three fingers. He felt his head, and the blood stained gauze that wrapped around his ear as a doctor walked into the room. "You were in a convoy hit by an IED, Jason. You've lost your leg, a few fingers and an ear. But you're alive, and you're home." The doctor smiled. "Most importantly, you're awake. For a few months I thought we'd loose you." In that moment, Jason realized that he had been in a coma, unconsciously dreaming -but his experience was as vivid and lucid as if he had lived his own dreams, and though it haunted him, he was relieved as he began to reflect on the details. He escaped from prison, which would have been nearly impossible. He slept on a train. He committed murder. He knew both what he was capable of, but what he would never do. He felt powerful, even though he was missing a limb and three digits. "Where's dad?" Jason asked. "You're father had a heart attack eight months ago and died, Jason. It was the drinking and the smoking that finally did him in." Jason's mother sympathetically replied. Seeing that she missed him, he held the harsh words he so desperately wanted to say. "Oh." Jason replied, softly. "I'm sorry that you two never had time to make amends." His mother replied. "If your father could see you now, he'd want you to know that he loved you." "He had a funny way of expressing it." Jason's voice took an angry resonance. "I know it was hard, son," Jason's mother replied, "but it's over now. We'll be able to go home before much longer." "Yes you will." The doctor opined. "You'll of course need physical therapy, possibly some counseling might do you some good, but you'll make a healthy recovery." "I guess." Jason looked at his missing leg. Jason remembered the Middle East, but even more than the war he remembered his dream. He remembered killing his father, and what it felt like. He remembered escaping, and the fear of being caught. He remembered the help he received, from those who loved him and from complete strangers. While he knew that the war was a part of him, it was the demons from his childhood that made him who he was -that haunted him in his sleep. But now, it was over. His father was dead. His mother was safe. Jason had returned stateside, and he could begin his life again back home.