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Waking up, a blinding light greeted me. Last thing I remembered was falling asleep in that alleyway. But... there shouldn't be light in here. The buildings were too tall for that.
When I fully opened my eyes, I saw that I was in a hospital room. Or, at least, what looked like one. A hospital room, but if it was the inside of one of those cabins you'd expect to see in a summer camp. I'd never been to a summer camp before. How strange.
I could see no one, but I could tell I was being treated. Who was crazy enough to pick me off the streets and try to heal a dying girl? The answer to my question came walking though the door, as a tall, freckled, blond-haired teen boy. Could teens be doctors? I couldn't remember. I started to shiver while remember how I'd ended up in that alleyway. I'd dragged myself out of my apartment, (somehow) all the way downstairs with the elevator, running away from something. But what was it? I remembered the metallic taste of blood, the sickening stench of the crimson red. Horrified screaming and shouting coming from someone. How many people got hurt? What events led to the terrified thoughts in my head, telling me that I needed to survive? What events led to those same terrified thoughts telling me that someone needed help? Who was that someone? Was it my mother? And where was my dad in all of this? The answers to those questions were just in my reach. But I just couldn't remember. And out on the streets, I'd come face to face with death's cold embrace. I was willing to let her take me, too. Why suffer out here, when I could see them again. Wait, who'd I wish to meet in the afterlife? Everything was blurring together. The features on the boy's face, the muted colors of the room, my own thoughts.
I didn't understand, why? Why'd he save me? Why'd he try to even attempt to heal me? What was he doing looking down that alleyway? Was it even him? Why wouldn't I just remember? Why was I so frustrated?
Why, why, why, why, why, why, why, wh-
A sharp voice brought her back to the present, and back to the warmth of the indoor room.
"Hey? You good?" They boy asked. I stared at him in response. I had millions of questions floating through my brain, as the shock finally got to me. But the words wouldn't come out. Only a hoarse and rough mumble that even I couldn't make out. In fact, I realized my throat hurt. I wonder how that happened.
"Don't talk, you're neck's been injured. Vocal cords. Don't worry, it'll heal in time." What an authoritative voice. If he didn't look so young, I'd have believed he was a real, and certified doctor. I simply stared at him.
Once again, how strange.
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The kid was awake now, so Will went on with an interrogation to figure out how well she was holding up.
"I'm going to ask you some questions, and all you have to do is nod or shake your head, ok?" He asked. The girl continued to just stare, so Will decided to take it as a yes.
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He soon came back with a blond haired girl, who looked something along the lines of hopeful or like when a child has had too much candy. She immediately came up to me, and asked a question.
"Hi, how're you feeling?" The boy shook his head and responded for me," She won't respond, Annabeth." There was a bit of an awkward silence after that. All I heard was the shuffling of trees outside, and friendly shouts of people I didn't know off of the distance. Seriously, where was I?
I sensed the two other people in the room were having a silent conversation with just looking at each other. I always wondered how people did that. Could you do it with just anyone, or did it depend on how well you know someone. I guess I could somewhat converse in silence with my mom. Somewhat.
But Annabeth seemed to want some form of an answer, so I made a shaky finger towards a piece of paper I could see on a nearby desk. The boy brought it over with a pencil. It feels nice when someone finally understands what you're saying.
I was still getting used to the feeling of consciousness, so my handwriting was a bit slurred. I also have dyslexia, so my spelling was only somewhat legible. I hoped. I wonder why I'd remembered that, but not anything else. It's the feeling you get when you understand all the hard questions on a test, and then you forget how to do the easiest one. I'm sure there was a word for that, some kind of amnesia. I'd written on the paper," Melanie. I'm doing fine Thank you very much." At least, I hoped that's what I wrote. Annabeth seemed to (somehow) get the message, and smiled at me. It was strangely comforting.
That one look gave me the sense that she understood everything about my life, even the part I couldn't remember. I could tell that behind those wise gray eyes, a storm was brewing. It had been for a long time.
I could also tell that I was sure of nothing. Nothing about the future. Nothing about how I would end up. Nothing about the journey I was in for.
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