HOSPITAL STAYS
Chapter one
Studies
My hair lies calmly on my shoulders. It lightly tumbles in brown waves that are completely unmoving. I look at my eyelids; they are just loosely closed over what I know to be brown eyes. The skin covering my face is pale and void of my true emotions. I hardly recognize this person. She wears a hospital gown and is currently unconscious. No one can hear me though. I can't feel anything now. I like to stay here so I can see what will happen to my other self.
I, Christine Daae, am dying.
My body is sitting there in a bed while I walk around the hospital aimlessly. My being has separated, waiting for god to make the final choice. For the first few hours I screamed at my friends. I could hear every word of theirs while they did not pick up on a single of mine. They kept calling me tragic and hopeless. It hurt. I have to admit that it's frustrating but not all bad.
I walk into the rooms of other patients during my time here. Some have tens of visitors a day, while some only have two or three. I listen to the conversations they have with the sick or injured. It may be an un-enjoyable stay but also nice to someone loves you like that. There is also a boy older than me; eighteen at the most, who has none.
He chooses not to stay in his bed. A chair by a window is where he occupies most of his time in the daylight hours. He is going to be here for two more weeks I overheard nurses say, he had a gunshot wound and is on a hospital watch for infections. It was a minor graze to the cheek with slight blood loss. It is simply a cosmetic skin tissue scar. He is almost cleared and has free reign to walk around the building. He does the same as I… the lonely walks around this place. Erik is his name, or so says the clipboard by his bed, and he walks at night as to avoid trouble. He goes to the windows in the hallways and looks through. Machines light the faces he studies. Tonight he is walking.
The sun set hours ago and I believe it is early in the morning.
I watch his legs. They move with purpose. He doesn't have to wear the gowns like us worse off. He has faded denim that shuffles with movement. He is going down a hallway he has not traveled yet before. It's my hallway. The boy now is looking through my window.
I have been losing weight during this short coma. My face seems to have slightly thinned and sunken in. The luster that once blessed my curving hair is now in hiding. This Eric boy doesn't seem to notice. He looks into the window for what seems like hours when really it is only moments. I think he is taking in the amount of pitiful aura that my almost lifeless being lets off.
I have been dying for about two weeks now. I sometimes wonder when the inevitable will happen or if miracles do exist. When I die, I want to know what will happen to each part of me.
Eric is now walking away from the small window and nearing the door. He slows down enough and gently touches the doorknob as though it would crumble under his grasp. His stare is intent as he slowly turns it, avoiding any slight noise. The door is swiftly swinging into the interior of the room. Erik smirks lightly to himself.
He's walking into my room. This hasn't happened before. I walk behind him just as the door shuts. The light from my heart rate monitor illuminates his face so it almost looks angelic. He has groomed black hair that frames the interesting scar from the bullet. It curves in a awkward crescent that extend the plain of his cheek.
I notice something that I haven't before now. They have put my body on a respirator. I don't go in here often so it is natural this development has eluded me. It is evident I will die soon. It is still eerie to know that I cannot breathe on my own though. Eric is now going to the bed.
My upper half is slightly elevated. The blanket is pulled to the tops of my elbows. It would like I'm sleeping if the tubes and I.V's were removed. I go and sit at the side of the twin side bed just looking at the plain fabric that doesn't wrinkle under me. I look up to see Eric come hover over the bed. He is studying my face. I don't like it… it's like he's looking at me but at the same time not. I watch as a pale hand slips up from his side and lightly touches my bodies chin. I follow the arm to look at Eric's face. He seems entranced with his own finger tips. His eyes seem clouded and distant as he spreads his hand over my jaw.
I feel myself warm up and get drowsy. I feel as though this was just a dream and that I'm fading. My spirits being is slipping away.
I feel real again. I feel the cheap material under me, the cold hospital air, even rough fingers.
While my mind is clearing I open my eyes. Eric is staring down at me in shock. I take a deep gasp at which he recoils his hand. His eyes are widening as tears build in mine. I'm now thanking god for letting this miracle come to me.
We speak in unison.
"I'm alive!"
"You're awake!"
A/N: For any of you who didn't understand… Christine is in a coma and it's like her spirit is waiting for her body to die but she doesn't. :D Erik is a guy who has a scar on his face from a bullet and is super bored….