Who We Are.

A Stubborn Door

We all sat blankly around the couch, looking at the around 40-year-old bald reporter in shock and silence. I couldn't believe it - I was going to lose my mind if I stayed in this estate with my family and all I will see are people trying to get away from me, including Kendall and her family. I wanted to go down to the lobby and just explore now that my neck was feeling a little bit less stiff but instead I just hobbled back to my room and shut the door quietly. I wanted to change out of something this formal and something more casual before I headed down. Plus, it was still early rush hours so I wanted to give the large crowd that would probably be down there to disappeared before I head over to avoid running into more people.

I pulled the white clean sweater off my back with a lot of force and hung it back up in my closet as quickly as I could. I ended up slamming the door a little harder than I meant to I kept my pants on because I always love jeans - no matter where I was or what the weather was like. I pulled out a piece of almost blank paper and brought out a pen. I had to figure out how I can solve all my problems. I have always been that quiet girl who loves lists. Lists helped my brain not turn into mush. I forget that I am still not wearing a shirt until the air conditioning turns on and I feel shivers all along my arms. I look to the corner of my room to find a white basket. I hobble over to it and peer inside. There are a few pieces of clothes - including the ones that I was wearing yesterday. I pull some clothes away and dig around until I find what I am looking for. I grabbed my plain dirty jacket in my hamper that my mom had set up in the corner of my room and I tugged on the handle of the closet to try and open it again. 

"Darn it. Stupid thing. Just make it easy for me, please. I promise next time I will be way more careful." I whisper. It was weird, I'm talkingto a closet door! I sighed and shake my head. Then I pull harder.

I must have slammed it so hard when I put my sweater back that it jammed. I pulled with my only nonbroken hand. The chunky glass handle was slippery under the weight of my body which was depending on my right arm and my other leg to keep my body up. The wetness on the handle caused my hand to slip away and I fell back. I hit the dresser and slammed my knee into the bed handle. I screamed out in pain, "Mom? Mom! I fell! Help me! Mom!" I sat back and rubbed my butt bone. I'm going to have to go back to the hospital. I rubbed my head, which had hit the floor like a wrecking ball. I felt for blood and luckily nothing came out from my head. I glanced down - trying not to break my neck and see my knee is bleeding all over the area rug. I try to pick it up but it doesn't work. I lost all feeling in my leg - I can't even feel if it hurts or not. I knock on the floor. Maybe a neighbor will hear me and come and ask if I'm alright. I look around for my mom, who still isn't here yet. I feel as if I am screaming but maybe my throat is so sore that I'm not even talking at all.

I close my eyes, but don't fall asleep. I wait, half of my body on the cold floor that my mom sprayed and wiped down this morning and the other half on the soft carpet. The half that I can barely feel is surrounded by warm carpet. I was shrivering - I wish I could warm myself up with the carpet but I can't use my arms or legs to pull myself up or closer to the carpet at the very least. I watch as the blood drips slowly onto the clean black area rug but I don't see where it lands because it immediatly blends in with the color. I slam my right arm into the floor one last time before my body sinks away and suddenly becomes warmer and painless. I must be dying.

I open my eyes as soon as I feel a cold tap against my bloody knee. I look down to see a bandage that is covering a small wound. My sad, short life is like some kind of video game - I have so many lives. I have nearly died 2 times in the past few months and every time that I think that my time has come, I just wind up in the hospital. The feeling in my leg has returned in the slightest and all I can feel is a certain warmth, probably blood, flowing through. The doctor doesn't seemed fazed that I have woken up like Nurse Tanor was back in Redwood. Instead, he swiftly grabbed a long thin shiny needle from a tray that was perched on a cart behind him. I raised my head to look at the cart, but he pushed my head back down. I didn't want the shot - not yet. I peered at his name but beforre I could get a good long look at it, a sharp pain rushed through my arm and I use my right hand and try and rip the metal thing out of his hands. As soon as I lift my hand, it flops back onto the bed again. It must have been a setative. I tried to look at his name tag again but all I saw before my vision went blurry was Doctor...