دانلود رمان انگلیسی “تا آخرین نفس”

The curtains had been wide open for quite some time now, letting the sharp rays of the sun stream in through the open window, on to the face of a prostrate Dushyant, who lay in bed, covered in a worn-out hospital bedsheet, very uncomfortable in his sleep but still unmoving. His eyes flickered through the night and his fingers trembled. He was asleep and didn’t wake up. It wasn’t a good night’s sleep. Finally, after tossing restlessly from side to side, he woke up and tried opening his eyes. One of them refused to open, swollen from the huge gash just above his left eyebrow, which had been heavily taped and bandaged. He touched the bandage with his hands and checked for blood with his other half-open, groggy eye. He sighed as he found none … Only then did he venture to look around the hospital room. He was surrounded with medical equipment, a lot of it connected to him, a small television in one corner of the room and an empty bed on his left side. His thoughts wandered to what had brought him there. It wasn’t the first time he was in one of these beds, but this time it seemed a little more serious than the other times. Landing up unconscious after a series of uncontrollable vomits and brain tremors was a way of life for him. It was his escape, his refuge. Being sober hadn’t got him anywhere, and being drunk obliterated the possibility. He had tubes attached to needles, which dipped into his veins and arteries, and pumped liquids from transparent pouches hanging from the stand on his right side. He was sure his parents had no idea of his whereabouts. He knew none of his friends would have given the hospital authorities his parents’ numbers or address. He was in no mood to see or talk to them. Not now, not ever. The hands of the watch on his cell phone touched. It was twelve—fourteen hours since he had been admitted. Last night, like many before, had been a night of debauchery, porn, poker, alcohol and smoke. Six of his friends in his cramped one-room apartment—a fiveminute walk from college—and a few bottles of alcohol, some weed, nail-polish remover and just about everything which could get them fucked up.