Bright Lights

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Bright lights.
Television blaring loudly in one half of the room.
Hers stays off.
Her life, bleeping before her in the background.
Shadowed whispers.
Trying not to let her hear.
How long will it take?
Four months.
How much money?
A lot.
When can she come home?
Tomorrow.
Trying to get comfortable in her uncomfortable bed.
BEEP BEEP BEEP.
They walked into the room.
Not a rush.
Slow. Steady.
She has bent her arm.
Again.
Not a problem.
The IV will not come out.
Reading?
Not now.
She needed to bring herself to sit up.
She realizes what has happened.
Nurse?
Help please.
Sadness hits her as the little girl across the room cries on her parents shoulder.
Its time for her to go.
Is she ready?
No.
Scared?
Yes.
Saying goodbye to her parents was the hardest thing she ever had to do.
She was so scared.
Why me?
She asks herself.
How do you feel?
Tired.
Turn it up.
Lay on this bed.
Taken upstairs.
Transported to another room.
Bigger.
White.
Shiny.
They tell her to count down from 100.
100…99…98…97…96…95…





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