Death's Exception

Chapter Three

"Dr. Finley says that you are to be released." Lilly is standing over my bed, inserting a needle into my arm. A thick red liquid seeps through the tube from a plastic bag hanging from a tall metal rod. The red liquid pours into my wrist. Over all of last night and today, I will be under going a blood transplant. Lilly told me that when I was frozen, they had to put a solution in my blood stream. This solution basically kept my cells from exploding under the extreme temperatures.

  "Really?" I do not wish to taunt the idea. The idea is an animal yet to be domesticated. I shall not be too quick to play with it. Lilly takes her hand from the tube, and rests her hands on my leather restraints, and starts to fumble with the buckle.

"Of course! He would like to see if you could walk. If you cannot, you are to remain in the bed. If not, a chair will be given." The buckle gives way, and the leather straps fall from each other. I bring my hand to my eyes, and observe the ashen, weak limb. The nails on it are long, but rounded at the end. My fingers look like skin on bone, and nothing in between. I observe a scar at the bottom of my left ring finger. It is small, and sharp. It ends almost as soon as it begins, in a line just below the start of the finger.

 I rub my small wrists intently. My skin is rough and cold. 

 "Do you want to try and stand?" Lilly has become someone that I enjoy seeing every day. She holds out her hand. I stare at it as if it may be the scariest thing I have ever seen. This girl. The first face I have seen after my death, wants to touch me. My tensed arm finds it way to her hand. She supports me. 

 My legs drape over the side of my bed, and a shock of cold echoes through my body as my barefeet touch the tiled ground. My hospital gown stops right under my bottom, and I suddenly seem very self concious of what could be seen.

 "Are you ready?" I grit my teeth, and hold onto Lilly's hand tightly. I distribute my weight, and I stand.

 I stand and I see myself.

 I look horrifying.

My hair springs from my head in bounds. The black curly hair is thick, and long. My complexion is almost that of my four walls, and the contrast of my black hair on my pale, small, harsh frame is drastic. My eyes glow a florescent green. My chin is pointed, and my nose crooked. My eyebrows are overgrown, and my mouth a thin pair of pink lips. White hairs sprinkle my scalp, barely noticeable, but there. But the uggliest thing is the scar wandering across my face from the left side of my face to the bottom right side. It is an ugly purpleish red color. It goes straight through my eyebrow, nose, and lips. A symbol of something I didn't want to be.

Without thinking, I take a step towards the mirror, and touch my hand timidly to the reflection. Mirrors can be decieving. They can take your image and twist it into what you see of yourself, not what others see. They take all of the flaws and make them stand out against every perfection you have. I rest my forehead on the mirror, and close my eyes. Not able to stare at the mirror's deception any longer. My shoulders shake with unspeakable terror. I feel Lily's unwelcome hand rest on my shoulder.

"You walked." I hear the smile behind her sentence. I should care. I should care, because that means that I am not bedridden any more, and that maybe I can even walk around the world outside of my four walls.

I don't care.

The only thing I care about is that I look like a monster, and no one is ever going to look at me with pleasure. They could only look at me and know that I am that girl. That girl who was the science experiment.

"Explain it to me," I practically toss myself back onto my bed, except I sit up with my legs dangling over the side. Lilly sits in her little wooden chair across from me.

"Explain what?"

"The science of Cryonics. The thing that made me like this." She nods, almost as if she had expected this question, and hands me a book. It is labeled Cryonics; A Science. I open to the first page.

"Chapter One: How

Cryonics is a science in which a legally dead person is frozen with the hopes that they can be revived in the future. Once the heart of the person stops beating, they are immediately rushed to the closest Cryonics center, where scientists stand by. As soon as the person's heart has stopped beating, they put the body in a simulation in which they provide artificial blood circulation, and many cardiac resusitation procedures to keep the tissue in their body to believe that it is still able of preforming. Then, they enter a solution in the blood stream called cyroprotectant that will keep ice crystals from forming in their cells, causing them to burst. After this process, they proceed to freeze the body and keep them in a chamber.

Many believe that the reviving sequence would be too complex, and the damage of the tissue would be too great for anything to come out of this. However, it is being done. And I believe, that with science, anything can be achieved. Even conquering death."

I close the book, and search for the author's name. 

Dr. Finley.

"He did it." I whisper, terrified of the silence that hovers over me. I am terrified of penetrating something so sacred. Death had been conquered, and I am the result of that. I do not know whether to think that is a victory, or a fall.

"Yep. And you were the first." She smiles.

"So, you have tried it on others?"

"Oh, yes. But none of them actually lived." She tucks a purple dread behind her ear. "Trial and error, almost."

"What does 'legally dead' imply?"

"That your heart has stopped beating, but technically your tissue, and brain are aware. It is illegal to do it on someone who is alive." I stop and listen to my heart beat. I cherish the sound in my ears that isn't a sound, but a throb. A slow, comforting throb that means life.

"Why do I have... this?" I say, rubbing my fingers across the ugly scar.

"There was major tissue damage in your skull, and brain. It had to be fixed." She stares at me, her eyes on the edge of letting pitty shine through, but still trying hard to hide it. "It isn't that bad." I coral my hair on to my right shoulder, and crane my neck to the side in attempt to see my face in the mirror once again. I trace the scar with my finger, and bite my bottom lip.

It is that bad.

"Will I ever get out of this room?" I plead.

"It will be a couple weeks. Now lay down. I won't sedate you this time, I promise." I let her reposition the needle in my wrist, and watch as the blood drips into my body.

two

three

four

five I count in my head as I wonder how high I could count before I fall asleep. 

six

seven

eight

nine I wish I could go outside.

eleven

twelve I wonder if the scar will ever go away.

thirteen

fourteen