Saturday, April 10, 2010

Explained

Chapter Eight






“We had brain activity about an hour ago. Her body’s function was regained only three minutes ago."
What had happened? Where was I? Oh. Yeah.
Instantly, I began to spazz out, my eyes shot open. Fuzzy, fuzzy… oh, now everything was back in focus. White, bright, and noisy.
“Oh, look, she’s, er, awake,” someone called. Loudly. Can I hear an ouch? Quietly please?
The voice was soon accompanied by a face, that shaded my eyes from the raging light. A doctor in his regular outfit, but he had a mask on, covering his nose and mouth. Weirdo.
“Roxy?” His voice boomed, “Can you hear me?”
“Loud and clear,” I spat. Emphasis on the loud.
“Good. I’m going to ask you to sit up now, okay?” Dr. told me, as he clicked a button that elevated my bed so I was up right. Man, those suckers are deafening. And who felt the need to put in such bright lights? Once I was completely upright, Doc asked, “You alright? Any nausea, dizziness, anything?”
“No-” I started when suddenly I heaved right on the guy’s shoes. Both of us looked down at the mess in surprise.
“I-I’m so, so, so sorry,” I sputtered, “I didn’t-I wasn’t-!”
“It’s okay,” He said in a forced calm voice, “It’s natural, that’s why we ask of you condition- to try and prevent this.” He indicated his shoes.
“I’ll be right back and I’ll call someone to clean this up.” Cautiously, he unlaced his shoes (hands gloved) and removed them, stepping carefully away from the mess. Shuffling out of the room, I heard him call, “Nurse?” Poor lady.
Then, sharp pain pinched in my mouth, my hand flying to it to prevent whatever was about to come out again. The pinching intensified, then suddenly stopped when something dropped into my palm. I looked down.
“Oh, my Gosh,” I gawked. In my hand were my two front Canine teeth. “Oh, my- oh, oh…” It was all I could do to keep myself from cussing like a sailor. I was gonna look like a freakin’ hobo. Ew. I was about to let out a river of swear words when my tongue was sliced by something in my mouth.
“Ow,” I stick a finger un-lady-like into my mouth and felt where my two teeth had once been. Holy sniz. I felt two brand-spankin’- new Canine teeth that were so sharp that they pricked my finger and caused it to bleed. I could taste the blood, and I spat it out automatically, but it tasted… different.
That’s when I noticed I wasn’t alone in the room after I sent my shower of spit flying everywhere. Doctors were elbowing each other to get by in the enclosed space, acting as though me and my vomit didn’t exist. That was okay, though, they all knew I wasn’t dead… or I did at least.
A voice started down the hall. A hushed, angry voice. They were hissing to someone about, “How could have run off again and done this?”
The footsteps clapped louder until they were at the doorway. It was some random non-doctor lady with a perky ponytail, bright shirt, and seemed to be in her forties. Suddenly, it was then I realized I couldn’t smell until she entered. My stomach lurched again. She didn’t smell bad, though. She actually smelt really good. Uh…
Stepping in the room the lady gave me a huge smile, giving her, like, five lines around the side of her mouth. Once she was in the room, she was followed by someone else.
Blake.
What? My mind could not compute.
The lady walked up to my bed until she saw the puke. Frowning kindly, she asked, “So you hit the puking stage?”
I could only stare past her at Blake. What was going on?
“Well, that’s good. That means the, uh, worse is over.”
I went to inhale to answer her, but it came out as a dry gurgle. Coughing, I realized another thing; I didn’t feel sick anymore. Sketchy.
“Water,” the lady said to a nurse. They handed me a glass and I drank some, but oddly, I didn’t feel quenched. Wasn’t water suppose to, I don’t know, hydrate you?
Once I took a sip, I asked, “Can someone please explain what’s going on? And who you are? And why someone told my mom I’m dead?”
The room suddenly became quiet…ish. Everyone glanced to each other, nervously. I folded my arms in a some-one-better-tell-me-what’s-happening-or-else way.
The lady spoke up, “I’m Caitlyn Stevens. I work with people who have the disease called Desmodus rotundus disease. The reason they told your mother you’re dead is because… you are.”

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