Fourteen Days Left


"Four broken ribs, fractured spine, brain damage, lung damage... overall not good," a doctor says, looking at a computer.

"What happened? Where am I?" I ask. I'm laying on some sort of bed, way too many tubes attached to various spots on my body. I'm surrounded by doctors in white lab coats, no one else in the room.

"You're at the New Spring hospital," a doctor says, gently. "You were in a plane crash."

"I was?" You'd think I would remember something like that, but nope. Nothing.

"Yes, dearie."

"Were there... other people in said plane crash?"

"Yes... but-" the doctor hesitates.

"But what?"

"There were only four survivors, honey. You, the pilot, and two flight attendants. Your family didn't make it. I'm so sorry."

"Oh. Who am I, by the way? I feel like that's important?"

"Oh you poor girl... hold on, I'll tell you in a moment."

She turns around and whispers something to another doctor, who writes whatever she told him down on a clipboard.

"You are Carly Vatra," she says carefully. "Your parents were Jake and Hannah Vatra. You had a younger brother named Anthony. You live in Oregon, and were headed to Hawaii. That's all your papers told me."

"Lovely. Ummm, I heard someone say something about various injuries I have? Can I have some detail on that?"

The doctor swallows uncomfortably, and looks me directly in the eye. "Carly, you jumped out of a crashing plane over a thousand feet in the air, with only a cheap life jacket and an oxygen mask. You won't be able to walk at all, and your mind won't work the same as it used to. You might have trouble breathing, and-"

"And what?" She looks away. "What else? Tell me. Tell me NOW."

"You- you have two weeks left to live. Fourteen days."

"Excellent," I say. "Now, seeing as I have literally nothing left to live for, and I'm going to die anyways, why don't I just throw myself out the nearest window and save you all the trouble." I try to sit up, but a sharp pain pierces my chest. "Or maybe not..."

"We're working out a possible treatment for you, one that, admittedly,  has a two percent chance of succeeding. But if it does, you should be able to return to full health, except of course, you will have to use a wheelchair," she says, gently brushing my hair out of my eyes.

"Ok, go ahead. Keep working on it. I'll give you a gold star, too, if that's what you want. I don't care. Honestly."

"Okay Carly. That's enough. Now we need to do some work on you brain, so could you drink this?" Nice nurse lady hands me a cup of what I assume is the fabled knockout juice.

"Sure." I sip. I spit. "HOLY-" I say a word that probably should have been erased from my memory along with my life story.

"Carly we know it doesn't taste very good, just drink it."

Fine.

_______________


Aaaaaand I'm awake. Darn it. I am--somehow--hoisted into a wheelchair to a room. This room has flowery wallpaper that's got to be at least a billion years old. There are two semi-comfortable looking beds shoved against their respective walls, and a large window overlooking a meadow.  

There's also a person in the aforementioned room.

It's a teenage girl, probably my age. She's just chilling on one of the beds, reading a book. She has dark skin, and bright pink hair shaved to one side. She looks up from her book and waves at me.

"Umm, hi," I say. One point to me for fabulous social skills.

"Oh this is Emyrson. She'll be your... roommate while you stay," Nice Nurse says.

"Cool."

"Sooo, we're going to just hook you up to this machine here and we'll be in every fifteen minutes to check on you."

"Nice."

~time skip because why not~


The nurses are gone now. It's just me and Emyrson. Wow this is awkward.

"Hi, uh, Emyrson. I'm Carly." Smooth, I know. She waves again, then turns back to her book.

"Are ya gonna say hi?" I ask. She sigh, rolls over, and pulls out a notebook. She writes for approximately 0.2 seconds, then slips me a piece of paper.

I'm mute you idiot.

Oh. Well hey, she has nice handwriting.

"Sorry... I didn't know." Emyrson rolls her eyes as if to say No duh. "Um this is awkward."

Emyrson facepalmed, then wrote another note. Why are you here? You look just fine. 

I gestured towards the mountain of medical equipment. "Does this look fine to you?" Emyrson just grinned. "Well, according to the doctors over there, I decided to jump out of a crashing plane. Of course, I remember none of this, but I think I used to be just maybe a little extra. And also I'm probably going to die in two weeks unless the doctors can do their miracle cure that has a one-in-bajillion chance of working. So.... yup. Why are you here?"

Emyrson scribbled furiously in her notebook, tore the page out, and handed it to me. I have leukemia, basically fancy cancer, so I'm probably going to die sometime around.... I dunno.... October. So yay for me. Also my parents totally can't afford to send me to a nice hospital for leukemia patients only, so here I am. And I have like, twenty books hidden around here somewhere so if you're bored I can direct you to the nearest Lord of the Rings book or something like that. And if you need a life story that's cool but if you don't that's also cool so whatevs.

"A life story would be nice," I say. "Also you have very nice handwriting." Another point for social skills.

Emyrson smiles a little, then gets to work on her notebook. After about a minute, she hands me another note. I was born in New Mexico, then moved here about a year ago. I'm seventeen, So my age. Interesting. And I have four younger sibling, three boys and a girl. I like dancing and music, (yes I know I can't sing, I just like to listen) and my favorite musical is either Les Miserables or Hamilton. Also, I like to read, as you might have guessed. Around here I have The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, Red Queen, Cinderella is Dead, and a lot more I don't remember. Oh, and I'm a lesbian so if you have a problem with that you can find another room. I think that's all? If you want to know more you can ask but I most likely won't tell you.

And suddenly I don't think the rest of my life is going to be so boring after all.










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