Penultimate Prison Break

The boy opened his eyes. Where am I? He saw the ceiling in front of him. He hurt. I hurt? He hurt all over his body. My body? What am I doing in a body? I hate bodies! The boy hated being in a body. So, he tried to leave it. He tried to fly to the ceiling.

I can't move! He stayed on his back, and then rolled his head to the side. Oh, god! I have a head! He saw a wall. Why is there a wall? He told the body to get up. The body complained severely. It groaned. I hate groaning bodies!

He tried to leave the body again, but the body had a brain, a large brain. And, the brain latched onto the boy, like a clamp. I hate brains! The brain spoke to the boy. The brain said, “I am a boy.”
Great!
The brain said, “I am a boy.”
I heard you the first time!
The brain said, “I hurt.”
Brilliant!
The boy told the body to at least roll over. The body started to move and painfully it rolled over.
Why can't I leave?
The brain said, “I'm scared.”
Of course you are, you're a brain!
The brain said, “Help me!”
I hate brains.
He looked in front of him. His eyes hurt. Oh, god! I have eyes! He saw a door. A door? The door was closed. So?
The brain said, “I'm scared.”
The boy looked down. The body was laying on a bed.
The brain said, “A hospital bed.”
I hate brains.
The boy looked at his body. I hate bodies.
The brain said, “I'm in the hospital.”
I really hate brains.
The body gracelessly rolled back over onto its back on the bed. The boy looked at the ceiling. He tried again to leave the body, but the brain clung on tight, not letting him go.
The boy closed his eyes.
The body closed its eyes.
The brain went to sleep.
And the boy flew away.