Slithering through paradise

It's a trick of the light that surrounds a shadow.
Shadows were mingling on the ceiling, but they had my head taped to the bed, so I couldn't make out what movements were blocking the light, outlining the overlapping shadows.
The absence of light would not go through the window, and then move on the ceiling of the darkened room.
It took me awhile before I figured out it was those two cops on the other side of my hospital room window who were blocking the light, making shadows, and not so patiently waiting to kick the shit out of me again.
The paramedics said my brain might be swelling, so the lights were off in the room.
They turned the lights off.
Those poor bastards, they did everything right to restrain me, and it should have worked, but then they turned the lights off. If they had left the lights on, I would have never escaped.
The cops didn't want to bring me to the hospital in the first place, but they had to because dozens of people saw them smash my head into the pavement, and rules are rules.
Now I was jamming them up and wasting their time, and they were super fucking pissed about it.
So they had me put in four point restraints
Four point restraints are leather straps that hold you down to the bed and cause instant panic attacks.
As the helpful nurse was tightening their straps, the super fucking pissed Santa Cruz cops said I might still wriggle free, so he rolled up a sheet and put it across my chest, then tied it tight around the back of the bed.
I couldn't breathe.
The healer had a hobby I guess, because I don't think they teach that in nursing school. When he was done trying to get me killed, he assured the cops that no one could get out of that.
It seemed like no one in the room liked me at all.