Reese Hoover
I frantically run through the extremely clean, white hallways of a hospital. By now, I have dodged five gurneys, two nurses in blue scrubs, and three doctors in white coats with stethoscopes around their necks. The narrow hallway I am running down suddenly opens up and I see a large desk with two ladies sitting behind it. I stop myself against the desk and catch my breath before trying to speak.
"May I help you?" One of the ladies asks me as she shoots me a nervous look.
"Yes. My brother, Lucas Hoover, is in here somewhere and I need to know where I can find him." I state.
"Sweetie, Mister Hoover is in the Intensive Care Unit at the time. Visiting hours are over for the day, but-" I don't hear what she says after that, all I hear is feet pounding against white tile and yelling.
I keep running until I reach the section of the hospital that is the Intensive Care Unit. The glass doors are closed, meaning that I can not get in to see my brother. I break down crying, and sit in the floor. This is all my fault. I should have been smarter and stayed in the truck or something. My brother may die and it's all my fault.
Suddenly, I feel a hand on my shoulder, and I look up to see who it is. It is a man with a badge that dignifies him as a hospital security guard. He offers a hand to help me up, and I take it. Then, without another word, he leads me to the elevators. By now, I have stopped crying, but there are still wet tears on my face. The security guard and I stop walking, and I hear the ding of an elevator door opening up. We step inside, and I notice that it is empty. I am terrified of elevators, so I cling to the hand rail thing. The doors close and the guard presses the first floor button. I hear the bell ding as we go down each floor, then suddenly the elevator stops and the emergency bell starts ringing. I look over and see that the guy has pressed the stop button, and he is glaring over at me.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I question the man, and he starts slowly stepping closer to me.
"I know who you are." He responds, about a foot away from me now.
I keep backing farther into the corner, and then slide down the wall, "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I know who you are. I know who you are associated with. I know everything about you."
"But who are you?" I question him.
"I am," He pauses for a moment, and a sly grin creeps onto his face, "your worst nightmare."
YOU ARE READING
Game of Life
أدب المراهقينIt all started with a small group of four innocent teenagers. An unusual-looking board game somehow falls into the hands of one of them. As they begin playing, they discover that events on their game are actually beginning to unfold in real life.
