Death's Exception

Chapter Two

I can see clearly now. My room is four white walls, decorated only with one mirror, and one painting. I want a window. I want to see what I missed the past fifteen years of my life. If the world had really moved on without me. The mirror is taunting. I can only see a part of my rough pink blanket in it, but besides that, I see nothing of myself. I do not know what I look like. I have asked so many people if they would let me free. If they would just loosen what binds me a bit more than it already is. But they are all so terrified of me. I am being shunned by the very people who helped bring me back. If they hate me so much, why dedicate their life to this science? This terrible, terrible science.

The painting is the only thing that keeps me sane. It is my rock in a sea of torment. I look over at the painting, and my eyes dance with joy at the cleverly arranged color scheme, and strokes. It is a bird. A magnificent owl mounted upon a dead tree. The black of the tree, and the blues of the sky only make the bird stand out all the more clearly. His wings are sprouted. Not as if he were to fly away, but as if I have drawn too close to its nest, and he is to pounce on me to keep me from raiding it. Behind the bird is one shred of moonlight leaking in from the branches. The moonlight illuminates a single object. A small, weak, frail bluebird. 

 I clench my teeth as I hear the door swing open and pound against the wall behind it. I glance at where the door hit, and see a small scratch in the paint. A flaw in my four walls.

 I see the man who created the flaw, and I want to shrink back into my bed even further. He has a long, thin, and worn face. His eyes are pale blue, surrounded by wrinkles brought on by fatigue and stress. His thin, red mouth curls down at the ends; around it a couple hairs that sprout out longer than the others. His hair is thick and un-tame. He comes close to me, and he smells like polished metal with a hint of medicine.

 "Why, this is she! My pride and joy, I must say! Brilliant! Now, I am just going to ask you some questions..." He pulls out a notebook, and crosses his legs. His hand scratches notes onto the little leather notebook he has. I think about the incident with Lilly, and I start to get angry.

 "I will not answer anything until you let me out of these restraints." I demand. He laughs tauntingly.

 "I am afraid we cannot do that, honey. We have strict orders from the government to make sure you are tame first." A fire burns behind my eyes that warns me of the danger of sobbing. A knot in my throat forbids me from proving my harmlessness. "Now, how do you feel?" I bite the inside of my cheek.

 "HOW DO I FEEL?" He smiles and nods, not looking up from his notebook.

 "Hah, stupid question. How are your senses working? Can you see, smell, feel, hear, and taste?" I turn my head away from him, and look to my painting.

 "Yes. Vividly."

 "Good. That is normal, they will even out eventually. IF you don't die before that, of course." He throws that sentence around as if it is a feather, but it lands on my gut like a bowling ball. I choose not to question it. "Now, um, do you remember anything about your history?" His eyes find mine now.

 "The only thing I remember is that my name is Aurora Destiel, and people called me Rory." He nods slowly, and his eyes now go back to their words and math problems.

 "Well, let me explain a bit. You are Aurora Destiel. You died of cancer at the age 15. It has been 15 years until you were frozen. You are technically 30, but you look and probably still feel like 15. You are the first to have actually lived the reviving sequence." The tears that were just a threat now fall down my face.

 "Can I please get off of this table? If I hurt anyone, you can kill me." He walks over to me, and I feel his rough hand stroke my cheek. I grit my teeth together.

 "No."

 "Okay, let me ask you something. Did I have a family? Where are they? Why aren't they with me?" His face twists into a sneer.

 "They are dead. All of them." My breath catches. I am alone. All alone in a world that revolves around everything I do not know.

 "Did you do this to me?" He now stands over me, his long white coat grazing my restrained hand.

 "Give you life? Yeah, I did. You're welcome." He storms out of the room. Did he assume that I would be grateful? Did he assume that I would start worshipping him?

 Whatever he assumed, he was wrong.

 ~~~

 A faint rap on the door bounces around in my head. I was memorizing my painting for the fifth time. At this point, I could pick up a brush and reduplicate the thing without a single flaw.

 "Come in?" I ask more than I demand. The door opens softly. It is Lilly. I try to sit up a little more than I already am, but I fail. She is holding a tray of food recognized by me as grilled chicken with a side of salted broccoli. I hadn't realized until how hungry I am.

 "Hi," She offers. I can now see that she has bright purple dreads, and large, round, and wire-rimmed glasses perked on her nose. She sets the tray on my torso, and I feel the heated bottom of the tray through my blankets. I am always cold. So, so cold. So the heat is welcome. "I am sorry about how overwhelmed I got. It was unprofessional." She stares at the ground, her worry still real, but hidden better this time.

"It is okay. It isn't everyday that you see someone who was dead for fifteen years alive." I try to joke. She offers a side-smile.

 "You should eat." She nods at the untouched food. I look down at my hands, and back at her.

"I can't."

 "Oh, right, yes. I am to feed you." I swallow a bad taste in my mouth. The anger seems to subside once I eat the first bite, however.

 Fifteen years without food.

 "How is it?" I just nod. Fishing for more. My hunger is beyond enjoying food. My hunger is desperate. I hadn't realized it, and now it seems impossible to ignore. She feeds me, but it is too slow. Once the tray runs out, I almost scream for more.

 "I am sorry, but the food is rationed. You cannot have any more."

"You're kidding right? I HAVEN'T EATEN IN FIFTEEN YEARS." She nervously glances at the door.

 "Um, I am sorry, Rory. But I was told to sedate you after you eat." I bite back a groan of frustration. I lean back hopelessly, and let her. A tear runs down my nose. I wonder if I will ever know what it feels like to fall asleep naturally.

 If I will ever know what it feels like to do anything naturally.