Prologue
I knew I was dying. There was no doubt in my mind that this unbearable pain was the last thing I would feel before my body would fall limp and my soul would disappear from the world.
It started as a cough. My mom took me to a walk-in clinic near our home in Port Angeles where I was diagnosed with pneumonia. The young female doctor looked at me with a bit of a grin and told said that pneumonia was a very common disease and that it would be taken care of quickly and easily. I thought nothing of it at the time.
I was prescribed some antibiotics. They helped almost immediately and eased my minor chest pains. Yet within weeks of stopping the medication, my symptoms came back. This time, my cough was more rigid and dry, eating away at the flesh of my throat. The light fever I had experienced was multiplied and I felt exhausted, sleeping for sixteen hours or more out of the day.
Not wanting to take any risks, I went straight to the Emergency Room, where I was briefly looked over by one of the resident nurses and was told the same reassuring advice. My prescription was nearly doubled.
My symptoms did not disappear. In fact, they seemed to worsen by the hour. I would wake up not knowing where I was and I began coughing up clots of bright red blood.
It was only a matter of days until I was admitted to the hospital again.
The virus has spread from my lungs and infected my heart as well. My muscles were so weak that I could barely even move.
My parents came to visit me every day in the hospital. They said that there was something special about the new doctor who was assigned to me that made them believe that I would make it through this. I wasn't so convinced.
Even the mild painkillers they gave to me did little against the savage tearing feeling in my chest. Soon, I could feel it creeping into my limbs and through my fingers. The monitor was proof that my heart rate was slowing, and I cringed at the thought of my premature death. I was only eighteen.
Late one night, I heard the squeak of the door to my room opening. The sound woke me from my half-sleep. It was Dr. Cullen, the one my parents had put all of their trust in. He closed the door behind him.
I was surprised that he was here so late to check on me. My shock suddenly turned into panic. [i]I must be dying,[/i] I though. What other reason would he come for me at this time?
I tried to speak, but the pain in my chest was so unfathomable that the only thing that came out was a whimper.
"It's alright." He said to me in his soothing voice. His honey-coloured eyes glimmered in the dim light, and he gave me a reassuring grin. He put two icy fingers to my throat as to examine my sluggish pulse. "You're not going to die." He whispered in my ear, his breath a sweet combination of apple blossoms and lavender. He moved his lips down near my neck, and before I could object, what felt like two metal prongs punctured my skin.