Immortal

Prolouge

It was the day. The day we found out. 

We always knew we would see it coming one day. 

As my parents and I walk into the doctor's office, my little 6 year old self has her eyes wide and fidgety hands clutching her pink flowered dress. Nervous with anticipation.

The room was clothed in white with light blue strips that reminded me of the ocean on a windy day. It smelled of disinfectant and latex.

All in all, it smells like sick people. 

I walk over to the books. And pick up Clifford the Big Red Dog and run over to my mother to read it to me. 

She reads it in her storytelling tone, which has always excited me. But my excitement drops once I hear it.

I turn my head to the familiar creaking of old wood and squeaky hinges, and a short, middle-aged man with a comb-over his bald spot stands there in a white lab coat. 

"Katie Hooper." he calls out my name in a dull tone. 

I shakily stand and look at my parents who are now standing next to me. They herd me to the door with smiles plastered on their faces. But I can tell they are nervous too.  

We walked down the long white hallway for what seems like hours. But finally we reach a small room with floral wallpaper on the walls curling at the edges. 

The short man gestured a hand to two chairs which stand against the flowery wall awaiting someone to sit in them. 

We walked over slowly, our feet scuffling on the soft carpeted floor. 

I sit on my mother's lap while they talk.

They talk about things I was, at the time, very confused about. I glance around the room inspecting small details. 

The instruments laying on the table. The syringes, and stethoscope.

White coats hanging in a neat row on the table. And the files which contain important information not meant for a little 6 year old girl to be looking at. 

Then I hear the doctor break the news. 

I block out his voice, for what he was about to say I didn't want to hear.

But when the short man gets up and walks over to a small cushioned table, my mother grabs me and puts me on the table. 

The doctor pulls out a syringe and says something like: cure.

Cure for what?

I look over and see my father's grimm face and he nods to me. 

The doctor sighs and grabs my arm. Wipes it with something cold. And stabs my smooth skin with the sharp point of the needle.

The pain seared from my arm to my toes. Making me scream in agony. 

"Do something!"  my parents screamed at the doctor. He had a panicked and terrified look on his face and said nothing. 

I grabbed my arm where I was injected with the poison, it was as normal as any other human arm. 

Except for the fact that it was dark purple, and attached to a screaming child. 

The pain became too strong, and black covered my eyes like the dark at night.