Domino's

Tetris

I woke up in a dark room. My body was connected to weird machines again with cables. But now, as I lay in the darkness, the only sound the steady beeping of machines, I felt surprisingly calm. Maybe it was the painkillers they had given me, or maybe it was the knowledge that I had made it through the surgery alive. I saw a TV in front of me. On the desk next to me, I saw a controller. I turned on the TV to see that it had only one game on it called Tetris, so I decided to play it and give it a try.

I was playing Tetris, the colorful blocks falling and shifting in time with the music. As the game played on, I found myself getting lost in the rhythm of the music, the steady beat soothing my nerves. For a while, I forgot about the tubes and wires attached to my body, forgot about the pain in my chest and the fear that still lingered in my mind. I was just a girl playing Tetris, lost in the flow of the game. Eventually, the game ended, and the TV shut off automatically. I was left alone in the darkness once more, the beeping of the machines the only sound in the room. Playing Tetris on a hospital TV had brought me a moment of peace in the midst of chaos.

As I tried to fall asleep, I noticed, that next to me were curtains. I opened them, to see the city shining full of lights, which looked like millions and thousands of tiny lanterns. But at the same time, I was grateful for the stillness. It was like the world was giving me a moment to catch my breath, to gather my thoughts and just be.

I closed my eyes, breathing in the cool night air. It was refreshing, almost cleansing. I felt like I was being washed clean of all the worries and stresses of the day.

As I opened my eyes again, I saw a shooting star streaking across the sky. It was like a sign, a reminder that even in the darkness, there was still beauty and magic to be found.

And in that moment, I knew that I didn't have to be out there, exploring the world, to find that magic. It was right here, in this quiet moment, as I stood at my bedroom window, looking out into the darkness. I stared out of the window the whole night, until the sun returned. I grabbed my phone to text Vivi:
Hi Vivi, I'm in the hospital again. My dad launched a glass bottle of vodka at my head and I had to go into surgery to sew my wounds and scars. I hope that I will get out as soon as possible. My dad was angry because he found out that I was pregnant and asked him for an abortion.

I was lying in the hospital bed, surrounded by the white walls of my room. My body ached from the surgery, and I felt like I was barely hanging on. It was hard to believe that just a day ago, I had been going about my daily routine without a care in the world.

Now, I was alone in this sterile room, with nothing to do but wait for the doctor's rounds. I tried to sleep, but the pain kept me awake. I tried to read, but the words on the page swam in front of my eyes.

As the hours ticked by, I felt myself sinking deeper into a pit of despair. I missed my family and friends, and the thought of spending another day in this place filled me with dread.

But then, a nurse came in with a tray of food and a smile. She asked me how I was feeling and if there was anything she could do to make me more comfortable. It was a small gesture, but it meant everything to me.

As the day wore on, other nurses and hospital staff came to check on me, bringing me water, adjusting my pillows, and just chatting with me to help pass the time. And even though I was still in pain, and still alone, I began to feel a sense of gratitude for the people who were there for me in my time of need. I wonder how my life will be after this incident. As I was lying in my hospital bed, feeling trapped and suffocated. The constant beeping of machines and the smell of antiseptic made me feel like I was losing my mind. I needed to get out, to breathe fresh air and feel the sun on my face.

So, I made a decision. I was going to escape. I knew it was risky, but I couldn't stand being cooped up in that hospital any longer.

I waited until the middle of the night, when the nurses were doing their rounds. When I heard them coming down the hall, I quickly got out of bed and grabbed my things. I slipped out of the room and down the stairwell, praying that I wouldn't get caught.

When I finally made it outside, the cold night air hit me like a slap in the face. I wrapped my coat tighter around me and started to run, ignoring the pain in my side from the surgery.

I knew exactly where I needed to go - to my friend Vivienne's house. She lived only a few miles away, and I knew she would understand why I had to escape.

As I ran through the dark streets, I felt a sense of freedom that I hadn't felt in weeks. It was like I was alive again, like I was finally in control of my own life.

When I finally arrived at Vivienne's house, she was waiting for me on the porch. She didn't say a word, just wrapped me in a warm embrace.

We spent the rest of the night talking and laughing, and for the first time in weeks, I felt truly happy. I knew that I couldn't stay with Vivienne forever, but in that moment, I didn't care. All that mattered was that I was free, and I was with someone who cared about me.

In the end, I did return to the hospital, and I did get in trouble for leaving. But I didn't regret it for a second. Sometimes, you have to break the rules to remind yourself that you're still alive. She allowed me to vent to her, and I was so grateful to have a friend like Vivienne. After I returned to the hospital, I was scolded by the nurses and my doctor. They warned me about the risks of leaving the hospital without permission, especially since I was still recovering from surgery. But despite their warnings, I couldn't help feeling grateful for the escape.

The next few days were a blur of medications, physical therapy, and more tests. But I was determined to recover quickly so that I could leave the hospital for good. I spent my days doing exercises and trying to stay positive, but the days felt long and lonely without Vivienne's company.

Then, one day, Vivienne showed up at the hospital. She brought me a bouquet of flowers and a bag full of my favorite snacks. We sat in my room and caught up on everything that had happened since I had left.

As the day turned into night, we decided to play a game of Tetris to pass the time. We laughed and joked, and I felt a sense of normalcy that I had been missing for so long.

But eventually, Vivienne had to go home. As she gave me a hug goodbye, I felt a lump form in my throat. I didn't want to be alone again, to face the endless days of recovery without any distraction or company.

But then, something happened. A new patient was admitted to the room next to mine. She was an elderly woman with a cheerful personality, and she quickly befriended me. We started playing board games together and sharing stories about our lives.

Suddenly, the hospital didn't feel so oppressive anymore. I realized that I had the power to make the best of the situation, to find joy and comfort even in the midst of pain and discomfort.

In the end, I was discharged from the hospital and went home to continue my recovery. But I never forgot the lesson I had learned during those days in the hospital - that even in the darkest of moments, there is always a glimmer of hope and a chance for connection and joy.