The Human Xenocide

Chapter Two - Case of a Lifetime

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Two hours had passed since the newest attempted suicide had been brought into the hospital’s more permanent corridors. Already, dozens of new interns and aged doctors flooded by the room, each looking at the clipboard pinned on the closed door.  All the interns and doctors argued out of curiosity about what the data on the charts meant, how to fix it, and what exactly happened. 

Hundreds of theories floated by the clipboard, each doctor attempting to scribble in notes of what really happened.  The interns, interested in a rare case of a bullet hole through the head, gasped at the comatose child on the other side of the large windows  while the experienced doctors bragged in the hallway next to the glass about some similar past case—they all seemed confident that their theories were correct.

The commotion outside the room quickly flooded the hospital and within hours just about everyone knew about the next big thing in the small city hospital.  Soon the case surpassed the commotion from when the sextuplets where born back in January.  No matter how many times the girl was checked, no matter how long the doctors argued about a diagnosis, there was still something wrong with the case, something missing.  The medics on the original scene recounted large amounts of blood and bone splattered among the wall, yet it seemed as if none was missing from her. It was almost as if she wasn’t shot at all.

Bickering hummed throughout the halls of the hospital.  She was a suicide case that pulled the trigger and didn’t die.  It was fairly clear that she didn’t miss.  Reports from the scene noted that the Lilly was dead for almost eight minutes before she popped back up.  And to push the case to the limits of the explainable, her pulse was extremely slow—almost impossible.  The doctors already started calling her case the first true revival of the dead.

As the doctors flooded by the room they couldn’t help notice that behind the two large windows the room was almost entirely empty.  The room was initially designed for long term patients and was even placed in the far, newly built, rehab corridor of the growing hospital. It was the only room available when Lilly was sped into the hospital.

Two large four foot windows reached across the wall that bordered the hallway and the curtains usually were strapped open, to let the curious staff get their peek.  Inside the room was standard off-white tile flooring and a single bed placed in the middle, which looked tiny compared to the massive, empty room. There was a stool thrown carelessly next to the bed  along with several monitors, but the sound had been turned off.  The constantly ringing flat tone was muted, since it was useless.

Despite her current situation, there was nothing particularly abnormal about Lilly.  She looked almost, peaceful, buried in the bed. She was thin, but not unhealthy, tall for a girl but still shorter than most men.  She had pure black hair that ran down almost a foot past her shoulder blades, with aged red highlights from about the center down exposing what’s left of her her rebel days years ago. Her lips were smooth, small, and the red and stood out like a beacon on her ghostly white skin.

Otherwise, the rest of her body was tucked under the covers—hidden from peaking eyes.  But the doctors knew what that half looked like too; her legs had gone the same ghostly white as her face  with leftover bruises and bloody scars  standing out like tomatoes in a basket of green apples. It was for the best that her legs were covered.

The blinds on the small window opposite of the door were pulled shut and recently stapled to the wall to ensure no light would get in. The ambulance crew found out early on during their retrieval she was super sensitive to the sun.  When she was rushed into the hospital the evening sun managed to give her several light sunburns across her body, yet  she had been in the sun for no more than a few minutes.