Well I'm still not dead :D So please please review :P I need some input. Also read my other story I Will Control It, which sorta ties into this one. Thanks!

Violet Yami

My hair was plastered to my face, sweat dripped off my skin. I was in so much pain, my arm still broken and leg out of use. Paper thin cuts were scattered on the surface of my skin, still red from injury. My head felt as if someone was jabbing a pen in it while attempting to rip off my head. It sure does feel good to be alive.

I lay on the white bed sheets, silent and brooding. I was attached a nearby machine that helped me breathe, the name escapes me. Heart pads remain attached to my chest and the beeping reminds me I'm still alive. I can barely move, and if I did my body would ripple with pain.

Laying here allows me to think, organize my thoughts. I think I'm going insane. I remember tripping into the window and I remember bleeding, but it's like watching a fuzzy, broken down TV. None of it feels real. I blink my eyes quickly, why do I feel like crying? I feel as if I've lost something and along with it something has been stolen.

I push the thoughts out of my mind; I can barely breathe for the glass has ripped up my lungs. I have a tube shoved down my throat and other tubes fed into my stomach or arm. The doctors are amazed that I'm not dead from the bleeding. I was told later that I needed 3 blood transfusions before I could be patched up.

Now I know how Frankenstein felt like, I'm full of stitches and bandages. Actually now if I think about it, I was a cross between a mummy and Frankenstein. In all my appearance had changed dramatically. My hair had been before long and plain. The doctors a cut it shorter after surgery, considering it was full of blood. Now it was chin length and I also had bangs now, something I've always hated. They always get in my eyes and obviously these doctors can't cut hair. They had thinned out my hair so much my hair now stuck out naturally and the cut was so uneven my hair almost looked fashionable.

On top of that I had so many scars I look like I fell into a pool of nails and pins. My nose had broken when I had fallen through the window so my nose was slightly crooked with the splint still in it. But I still was skimpy but muscular and I was still short. And I still had my freaky green eyes and the dark circles around them. So all and all I was still a freak.

Speaking of freaks, I feel as if something's wrong with my parents. They almost have a glazed over look on their faces all the time as if their high. They visit everyday bringing gifts and calling me "Honey," "Sweetie," and other sugary names I hate. It's like they've been zombiefied, but throughout all my past memories they've called me that. Weird, and also I have some strange blanks in my memory.

Take this for example, I can't remember my name. Call me psycho or crazy but I seriously can't remember. Everything I remember, there is no mention of a name anywhere. And if I ask my parents, I'll sound like a freaking idiot. So I decide to let things just move along and maybe they'll mention it. The doctors call me Miss. And the sheet on my bed only says patient 335357838087. What a name, 335357838087.

I hear a creak and the sliding of the door opening and footsteps shuffle into my room. I attempt to move my head to discover my visitor but body was exhausted and refused to move an inch.

My mother's voice informs me, "Honey? How are you feeling?" not bothering to listen for my answer, "The doctor's here to tell you your injuries."

The doctor clears his throat, "Well, your injuries were pretty life threatening, considering the amount of blood loss. Also your lungs were sliced up by the glass, as was your stomach lining and throat. You also broke your nose and arm; on top of that you severed a major artery in your leg." I hear the shuffling of paper, "All in all, you should be dead. But you're healing at an amazing rate, something almost impossible for a human being…" his voice trailed off.

I snort, healing at an amazing rate? I'm lying in bed, unable to breathe on my own and too exhausted to turn my head. If this is healing at an amazing rate, what is healing at a slow rate? But I know what this doctor is getting at; he thinks I'm a mutant.

My voice rasps out of my dry lips, "I'm not a mutant doctor." As much as I think how awesome it would be to have mutant abilities, I knew deep down, I was just plain, ordinary me.

"I believe you," his tone telling me, he doesn't actually believe me, "However your mother has asked for the test to be done. So we are just going to take a little blood."

I laugh the best I could, "Doctor, you just said I've lost a lot of blood. Meaning I've had a transfusion or two. I'm not sure if they taught you this in med school, but doesn't that mean I have someone else's DNA in me?"

The doctor turned bright red, caught by his own mistake. He wringed his hands nervously, "Ah, you are correct, this does bring up a problem. Doesn't it?" He gave a nervous laugh, "Well we'll just have to settle for a urine sample, won't we?"

I was escorted to the washroom, and I'll leave it at that. About half an hour later I'm back in my bed, in more pain than before. I feel my eyes close and sleep comes easily.

I see a girl, I think it's me, but she's different. She smiles at me as if finding me funny. Her eyes, they're an eerie gold, glowing. She seems older but other than that she is me. I look at myself, I wonder if this is the future. Then I hear a shot and the girl breaks into a million pieces, but now she's glass, broken to pieces, littered on the ground. I look around for the shooter, unnaturally calm for having seen myself shot. I feel the wind brush by me, and now I'm in an empty field. A whisper fills my ears, Mora, that name again. I look around the grass green around me and the sky blue. I feel something warm and liquid dripping down my stomach. I look down and see blood, dripping down from a wound on my stomach. I go to stop it, but as suddenly as it had appeared, it disappeared. The scene had changed again; I was in water, surrounded by fish, swinging to and fro. I reach to touch them, but they swim from me, almost fearful. Then I feel my lungs seize up and suddenly I'm unable to breathe underwater. I panic, drowning, I try to scream.

My eyes fly open to my darkened room, I'm drenched in sweat and I had bitten my tongue while I had been asleep. I don't move, still shocked by the nightmare. It had been so real, it scarred me. I wondered what it meant, I barely ever had dreams. Terrified, I don't want to sleep. I start to cry, what is happening to my life?

Eventually I fell asleep again and I awoke once again, after a dreamless sleep. Last night's dream still etched in my mind. My parents come once again to visit me; I'm not looking forward to it.

My father walks in first, bringing with him a huge box wrapped with wrapping paper. A huge smile is plastered to his face. He drops the box on my toes, but I don't feel much below my waist at the moment. "Great news sweetie!" he tells me.

"What," I mutter half heartedly, not really caring.

"We got the tests back! You are completely normal; you probably have a better metabolism or something." My mother exclaims as she walks into the room and sits at my bedside, and she starts to stroke my hair.

I don't bother to avoid her hand, "Yippee," I mutter and attempt at a smile.

My mother goes for it and smiles back, then kisses my forehead, "Oh I knew you would be so happy!"

"Well kiddo, open your gift!" my father exclaims, but he checks his blackberry. Obviously I'm not as important as him being late for something.

I give another fake smile and go to unwrap the gift. I'm able to lift my hands weakly but I don't have enough strength to rip the paper. My father, impatient, comes to my side and helps me rip the paper off and shoves it into the waste basket. He opens the brown box and motions me to look inside.

I ponder on what he got me this time; the last week had been filled with presents of candy, stuffed bears and balloons. I look into the box curious and my eyes open double in size. Never in a million years did I even think I would ever get this.

In that innocent brown box, were two brand new handguns.