[Can a person actually feel like death itself? If so that is exactly what Eddie feels like. His skin is a dull greyish color due to the state of his health, his whole body aches with each breath he takes and his mind is foggy thanks all the heavy medication being pumped through his veins. In other words he doesn't look much better himself, Richie. He wants to sit up fully, hell he even tried but the condition of his weaken body presents him from doing so. He feels nauseated, drowsy and even though he's finally awake he could sleep for another several months.

He's forced to let his head fall back against the pillows but not once does his eyes leave Richie, terrified that this all could be a dream and that Richie will vanish within seconds.

The way Richie embraces his hands leaves Eddie's fingertips tingling and he laces their fingers together with a trembling grip. ]

S-shut up, dickwad. [His voice is horse, raw from where he has spent weeks in what they swore was a coma.. Just the few words uttered has his throat burning, the discomfort written on his face.

Suddenly all the panic comes rushing back and fingers move to dig at more medical equipment.]

W-where are we? [His eyes dart around frantically while making another attempt to sit up.]

Where is the fucking clown?