just your (not so average) collection of short stories

Short Story #2

Another story from a prompt. Link: https://thewritersacademy.co.uk/writing-101/writing-prompts/

Prompt: You're lying on a cold metal table in a morgue. And you're awake.

Written from reader's POV

y/n: your name

y/hc: your hair color

The first thing you noticed when you wake up is how freezing cold you are. The second thing you noticed is the fact that you're lying naked on a metal table, and the only thing covering you is a white sheet. You try to sit up and realize that your whole body is stiff, like you haven't moved in a very long time. When you finally sit up, you realize that you're in a morgue. You shiver. Not just from the cold, but the realization that, apparently, you're dead.

Or was.

You squint as your eyes adjust to the very bright lights in the room. The whole room is painted white. Even the floor tiles are white. As you look around, you realize that you're completely alone, except for the camera in the corner that's recording your every move. You wrap up in your sheet, quickly becoming self conscious after your discovery. You see a sink with a mirror on one of the walls, and jump off your table. When you do, your knees buckle and you crumple to the floor, not expecting to be so weak. You start to think that you really died...

Your heart races as you try to cope with your chilling thought. You try to stand, one hand holding your sheet, the other clinging to the table. As you stand, your unused knees wobble and crack, feeling stiff and weak. Your heart pumps harder than ever, attempting to keep your blood pressure up from the sudden change in position. Your whole body feels tired, weak, and empty. The emptiness, although mental, is also physical in a way. You feel as if something is missing. Something is just... different.

You take slow, shaky steps towards the mirror you spotted. When you reach the mirror, you don't recognize the person looking back. The person's eyes are lifeless, watery, and bloodshot. Their y/hc hair was messy, dirty, and dry. Their skin, although pale, was splotched with purple. The shock of seeing the stranger in the mirror raised the hair on your back. Your breathing and pulse quickened, and you quickly found yourself hyperventilating. With every quick, shallow breath, the cool air of the morgue chilled your body. Your ran your hands through your hair as tears welled up in your eyes. Your brain spirals out of control while trying to come up with a solution for what happened to you.

"If I'm in a morgue, then obviously I died," you tell yourself, trying to be logical, "but how am I here?"

You don't remember anything that would lead to death, which is the most confusing part of it all. You were at a routine doctor's appointment when your doctor said something was off and scheduled an appointment with a specialist. Your doctor didn't say what for, so you assumed the worst and tried to go on with your life. When the day came for your appointment, you drove to the hospital where the specialist was without any fear. You figured that whatever was going on, the doctor would hopefully fix it and life would go back to normal.

Your life would never be normal again.

The doctor seemed a little... off. You didn't know how, but you just had a gut feeling. It may have been his cold grey eyes, or the way he had a small grin on the corner of his lips when he wasn't speaking. Or maybe it was the way he asked strange questions that weren't relevant to your health, but you just chalked it up to routine questions that need to be asked during a first appointment. Then, he pulled out a syringe. You suddenly wanted to get out of there, the whole situation feeling... just... wrong. You excused yourself to the restroom, only to be greeted by two security guards. You heard the doctor whispering into a walkie-talkie, which was very unusual. As you try to walk past the guards, one of them gently lays a hand on your chest and says,