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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1739473-Who-Cares
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by Kayla Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Drama · #1739473
It is a story I created about someone learning about why no one cares.
I angrily crept along the sidewalk teeming with people going about their normal business. But if anyone would care to notice anyone around them, they would realize the blood trickling down my disconsolate face. I was assaulted by a burly man because he was affronted by a remark I had uttered ever so silently about him utilizing his strength to empower himself over feeble beings.---
As I stole down the pathway, I met eyes with a met eyes with a handsome young man. No one would ever query about the intelligence of this man. He wore a brilliant suit that marked a sophisticated person, such as a lawyer or an accountant. The identity of this gentleman may never be fathomed all due to my recklessness. Never before had I realized the importance of my actions.---
He advanced toward me until the point where it was almost uncomfortable. He interrogated me about my injuries and despaired expression. I was suspicious of him at first, but after recognizing the disheartenment on his face I realized someone not only noticed me, but actually cared. I conjured up a theory that he was sent to communicate a message to me about my recently vanished sister. Amazingly, I was correct in that he was here in order to discuss the status of my sister's health, however I had not predicted he would tell me she was dying in the hospital. I demanded he tell me her exact location and, when he stated it was confidential, grabbed him by the throat and threatened to murder him. He immediately clutched his coat pocket and I discovered he had been recording the entire conversation. I ripped it out hastily and tugged him along the sidewalk into an abandoned alleyway. When he discovered my true motive, he agreed to take me to see my sister. ---
At the hospital my sister lay, unconscious, on the bed absorbed with her own dried blood, which, I was told, is contaminated by a disease I am unfamiliar with. The doctors talk of such symptoms as spontaneous internal bleeding, severe nerve damage, and, in rare cases, a series of seizures shortly followed by death. They say it is incurable without a massive blood transfusion. One that would involve a risk of death on both parts. I have a different blood type, because I took more after my father, but the lawyer's was identical. He immediately volunteered and, without the slightest hesitation, lie down on an operating table and gave me his identification badge.---
It wasn't until after the bodies were buried that I examined the badge of the man who gave his life to attempt to save my sister. The unsuccessful operation left me alone and unrepairable. It was my fault that they were both dead. As I looked over the badge, I learned that he was a special agent working under the government but his name was concealed by a smear of blood. A small piece of paper fell from the protective shield, which resembles a wallet. I carefully picked up the paper and discovered that he was sent to protect me. That I was to be taken to the government so they could examine my brain. That they had wanted to examine the brains of murderers, to learn why they kill. You may be wondering why that would involve me. The reason is that I killed my parents, which caused my sister to run away from the only family she had left. She received the disease because she was attacked, as I was. That leaves four people dead due to my unforgivable actions. Never again shall an innocent person die as a consequence of my unjustifiable behavior.---
The government accepted me into their experiment without question. No longer must anyone deal with the person that didn't think anyone cared. The truth is, I was the one who didn't care.          
© Copyright 2011 Kayla (kterriaz at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1739473-Who-Cares