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·˚ ༘ prologue: cold n rotten
2013, Metro-General Hospital
The slight stench of blood will never leave my nose, as a needle perforatates my fragile skin, leaving the room filled with tension. I never was afraid, at least not of the needles, but you could tell my mother was. She would smile lightly at me as her face would turn pale, her shaky hand clutching my father's. I would count in my head, waiting for the pulsing in my forearm to stop, for everything to stop, and once the needle was out, I was ok. The room was always cold, leaving me shivering, and making me wonder if it was from the temperature, or just pure fear. My father was also cold, but not in the way I was. He always had this look on his face, whether it was at a doctor or my mother. My mom said it's just because he's angry.
"He's just angry, hun. Nothing to be worried about." "At you?" "No, well– sometimes, but everyone gets angry..."
Sometimes the room would spin, making my stomach twist and turn. I would scream and kick and bite, like a bad dog. I would feel my father's icy hands gripping my wrists and my mother's soothing voice trying to calm me down. Then the room would go dark. I never knew what happened next, and I never wanted to, but I would always wake up. The beeping of machines echoed in my mind like a choir, piercing my brittle ears, every time. Sometimes it wasn't the beeping, it could be voices too. My mom and dad, their voices quiet, but their words loud. Either way, my brother would cover my ears tightly and sing quietly, just for me.
"We need to control her temper, Stephen, She's going to end up hurting herself in the future."
"Future?! Christine, our daughter is dying and you're worrying about her temper?!"
...
"Steph.."
The smell of anesthetic was faint, making me feel slightly nauseous. The pulsing in my forearm was back, covered by a sticky piece of tape. Cherry was my favorite flavor, it was the least nauseating out of the bunch, making the experience a lot easier. My parents would take turns wheeling me back into the operating room every surgery. My mother squeezed my small hand, and my father stroked small strands of my dark hair out of my face, staring at my watering eyes. As I rolled away, my mother would sob, and my brother would comfort her, leaving no one to comfort me. When I made it into the operating room, I could feel my heart beating in my rotten head, pumping blood to my rotten veins and flowing into my rotten blood.
"Okay sweetie are you ready to go to sleep now..?"
I'm never ready.
BELLA SPEAKS!
Sorry this is so short twins !!!!!!! I want to get chapter one out tonight so I didn't put as much effort as I usually do, but I still hope you like it! It's def not as detailed and prologuey but it's just a bunch of Kiara's memories smooshed together in one documenttt. BUTTT I RLLY HOPE U LIKE IT DONT MAKE THIS A COMMENT DEAD STORY PLS QUEENS
