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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Spiritual · #1027861
A teenage girl is dying in a hospital, where she receives four visitors.
**I don't know why I like this story. It jumps around a lot, it sounds sillier every time I read it, and I've written MUCH better pieces than this one that I could enter in a contest. But I don't know...... it's like the little story that could with me, you know? I have faith in it, BECAUSE it's so flawed. Tell me what you think k? I doubt I'll win this contest, but fingers crossed for honorable mention! *Wink***

          My eyes shot open when someone began violently jangling the doorknob, in such a terrible hurry they had forgotten how to open doors properly. I turned to face the door just in time to see a plump nurse enter, immediately filling the room with a sour aura powerful enough to wilt flowers.
          The illuminating light from the hall stung my bloodshot eyes and I flinched, shielding them from the light with my hand and managing to tug on my IV.
          “What’s this light doing off?” she rasped, her voice grating on my ears like sandpaper. She flicked the light on instinctively, its glow now leaking through the cracks between my fingers and causing my vision through my eyelids to redden.
          I sighed and removed my hand, squinting to better see my intruder. Her frown matched the bitter fog floating around her as she picked up my hospital chart, marking down some unknown words before she left as swiftly as she came, slamming the door rudely behind her.
          The cold hand of death crept behind me and stroked its icy fingers along my spine, sending a violent shudder through my diseased body. Fear raised the hairs on my arms as I shut my eyes tight, the hours of weeping leaving my tear ducts dry.
          It won’t be long now.
          The door reopened and a new person entered, wheeling a laden food cart of inedible food into the room. Swiftly she placed one onto my bedside table, casting me quick glances before she turned to go.
          “Wait..........” I whispered, my sore throat preventing me from speaking any louder. I cleared my throat, straining my swollen vocal cords to get the next words out. “Cold you turn the light-” She shut the door behind her before I could even finish the sentence, and the strain on my trachea caused me to cough uncontrollably. I turned and leaned over the side of the bed, blood spurting out of my mouth and onto the floor. I breathed wetly as my coughs subsided, spitting the last drops of blood onto the already covered tile.
          How much of myself has to be drained before I can accept my judgment and burn where I belong? I rolled onto my back, wiping away the remaining blood from my lips. How long do I have to suffer before I am redeemed?!
          With that thought the door opened a third time, presenting a handsome young doctor holding a clip board. His imposing stature dominated the small room, causing uncertainty to course through me in a crushing wave.
          “Hello, I’m doctor...........” his voice trailed off as his eyes took in the blood-covered floor, his slight disgust evident on his features. He looked up at me, and realizing who I was he ceased the introductions, tucking his pen into his coat with a sigh. “Another coughing fit?” I merely blinked at him, my mind becoming hazy and yet remaining painfully vivid, enough to see the retched pity in his dark brown eyes.
          “We’ll get that cleaned up” he assured me, walking closer to the bed to examine my damaged form. He checked my pulse and my breathing, the weekly ritual now repetitive and pointless.
          Can he tell? I wondered as he shone a flashlight in my eyes, his face inches from my own. Can he see it in my black irises? Can he taste it in the air?
          He straightened and forced a smile, though his eyes looked at me like I was a useless corpse inhabiting a needed bed. Wordlessly he picked up the button to increase the dosage of morphine, unable to do anything else.
          Can he feel it’s presence here? He turned and quietly ambled away, feeling the defeat most young doctors feel when they’ve failed a patient.
          “Doctor,” I managed to peep before he left, putting my hand on my throat to keep from coughing. “The light.”
          He stopped before the switch and threw one last pitying look over his shoulder, flicking the switch and casting the room in darkness. Contented I shut my eyes, licking my lips and tasting metal.
          I brought my knees to my chest and tried to let the morphine ease my burning pain, wondering briefly how death could ache so much. I whimpered at a sudden shot of pain ripping though my weak body, determined to tear me roughly from the world to the unknown evil beyond.
          If only I hadn’t wasted the time I had......... I thought as I stared blankly at the non visible wall, my mind slowing with every moment that passed. I heard my heart beat increase on the monitor, causing my breath to double in uncontrollable terror.
          “Are you in any pain?” a voice whispered, and the beeping on the monitor slowed, causing my rapid breathing to stop. I listened in silence, convinced that my ears hadn’t heard those softly ushered words, my dying mine causing me to invent the illusion of another visitor.
          “Hello?” I said, my voice sounding hollow and ashen. A figure stepped close enough that I could see them, though the darkness still managed to cloak their mysterious figure.
          My breathing became rapid again when I realized I hadn’t been imagining things; an actual stranger was lurking in the shadows of my room, and was now standing before my bed.
          “Are you in pain?” the voice, which I could now discern as female asked, kneeling by my bed and resting her forearms there.
          I squinted as I tried desperately to see the woman’s face, but all I saw was the outline of long curly hair, the light from underneath the door creating a halo around her head.
          I made a whimpering sound in confirmation to her question, her soft voice unable to slake my trepidation. I saw her smile in the darkness, the warmth of it wrapping around me like the reassuring arms of a mother. “I know” she said gently, placing her hand on my shoulder, her touch strange and fleeting like she wasn’t touching me at all.
          “Try to sleep. You must be tired from fighting.” I sniffed and nodded, staring up at the ceiling and trying to relax enough to shut my eyes. She seemed to sense my difficulty and placed her hand over my lids, gentle fingers sliding my eyes shut.
          “It won’t ache anymore” I heard her whisper in my ear, easing my worry and allowing my mind to relax enough to lose consciousness.
          I exhaled my last breath, my pain disappearing and being replaced by a blissful peace I hadn’t known existed. The last sparks of thought slowly faded to calm nothingness, and with the remnants of my muscle control I lifted the corner of my mouth in a small smile, faintly hearing the shrill monitor flat line by my head.
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