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My hands shake under the desk; heavy eyes look at me from every direction questioning my every move. I pick up my feet and shove the seat behind me, every move I make forces my body into more shock then I felt with the last. Water glosses over my eyes, I clasp my eye lids together like a moat, concealing the tears from the people surrounding me. My feet carry me away from the whispering faces, faster, and faster. Suddenly my feet are moving so swiftly below me I can’t feel my legs. I’m scared but I keep going faster, and faster. I feel like I’m flying away. Then comes the fall, crash, its over, I close my eyes and sink away into unconsciousness.

Hospital halls glimmer like the sun, blinding you back into the darkness you felt before you got here. Woman and men in white coats and blank pale faces draped with rounded paper mouths envelop around me. Their voices echo in my head “Status AF1, teacher says she has chronic leukemia, stage 3, needs IV NOW, hook her up to the”. The what? What other machine could they possibly screw into me? I roll into a light blue room; Hazy faces surround me, looking at me with pity eyes, always teary and poignant. I feel my mind start to rewire it self, my soul pouring back into me, where it goes when its gone, that’s the real question anyway.

There is a mirror positioned across the room at the exact angle of where I lay in bed. The picture inside is revolting. A young girl with red eyes stares into it, her face is scrawny and her shoulders poke out like skeletal remains. Now she is crying, she remembers why she is here. Images roll in the back of my head carrying me from my hospital bed, back to the class room. I’m sitting at my seat when my pencil falls onto the ground I bend over, flipping my phony, stiff hair over my head. Rick Hashing takes his bare hand and digs his fingers into my wig. My heart stops beating, I pull my head up with force to scream at him, “This is not a joke” I start to yell. Rip, spilt, slash, gasp. My secrets lie on the floor in front of me, exposed for everyone. Zach’s Smile wilts into dismay.

“RACHEL, my baby, my poor baby its okay, everything is going to be okay, mommy’s here.” My eyes peel open the horror movie playing in my mind is set on pause, but dwells in the bottom of stomach. She sits there, grasping my hand for dear life. Her pasted on face streaming out of place, completely horrified. Behind her walks in my dad, His beard is half shaved; little specks of white cream are still situated on his cheeks. I’m guessing my accident interrupted his monthly attempt to clean him self up. I break a smile, but it isn’t strong enough to stick. He looks down at my mother and then up at me, his face turns purple and angry words spill out of his mouth like vomit. “That damn kid will be dead when I get to him, what the hell is wrong with people these days?” When he is done yelling I see his anger snap and start flowing out his eyes. He drops to his knees and weeps. The most indescribable pain, lies in this moment, I look into the mirror across the room and stare my self strait in the eyes. My mouth moves but the words form out of breath, and are silent “This can’t be my life, it isn’t, and this is just a bad dream, Wake up, WAKE UP”.





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wordnerd54 This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Mar. 21, 2010 at 8:51 pm
Oh my God that's disturbing... but in a good way. Just be careful of run-ons. Very creative. Very memorable. Awesome job.
 
TEETEE said...
Mar. 19, 2010 at 9:10 pm
THiiS iiS GOOD
 
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