"Derek said that you weren’t supposed to be here, until tomorrow." Liz says, holding my hair. "Meril and Derek are at the bar.” She helps me to stand and looks at me critically. “You look like you need to lay down."
I look over at Derek’s sister, guilt eating me up from the inside out. I think that I might throw up again. Looking into her eyes, with tears forming in my own, I speak my guilt.
"Liz, I don’t think that you should be so concerned about me right now. I did something bad.” I look down at my feet. “Your brothers going to hate me when he finds out.” An idea pops into my head. One that will help remove any pain that I’ve caused anyone. The only person that will carry that pain is myself. “Is the machine still working?"
Thank you everyone that has stuck with me this far. This story is close to being over. I apologize for being a little late on my writing. I injured my hand, and wrist, and was unable to type. I hope that you have enjoyed this so far. I also hope that you are happy with who I chose in the end. My daughter disagreed when I first wrote this and demanded that I rewrite it. Of course, I chose not to. What do you think? Do you prefer Joseph or Derek?
Derek gets up to leave without a word. I try to grab a hold of his hand, despite knowing that I should let him go, but he moves too fast for me. I feel the tears rolling down my face. This is what I deserve. He, however doesn’t deserve the hurt. I start to head towards Meril, to help me finish the machine, but Derek comes back before I can get halfway across the room. He has a determined look in his eyes.
I woke up in a dark room, laying on what felt like a thin sheet and concrete floor.My ribs are protesting from the violent way my body is shaking. I can't tell which is making me shake harder; the fear I felt or the extreme cold. The pain causes me to think about the rest of my body.An examination of my body finds that my lips are busted, my knees are cut, bruises are on my palms and my throat feels like I swallowed glass. There is crusted blood in my hair and on almost every inch on my body.I have a nasty chemical taste in my mouth, causing me to gag every few seconds. Probably the most startling revelation is that I can't remember who I am, where I am, how I came to be here, or why I have blood all over me.Panic starts to rise as I frantically try to remember. But the harder I push, the more my head starts to pound. Great! I don't need any other problems.I count to thirty, trying to control my breathing. Maybe
I wake up to a sound that shouldn't have existed; laughter. Someone is laughing in another room. Wait! Something else is different. I'm lying on a soft bed not the cold bed of a floor. Why am I on a bed and why is someone laughing? Have I been rescued while I was sleeping? Is this some form of a trick?Maybe my previous night was just a nightmare that felt a little too real. If that's true, though, why can I still not remember anything? I examine myself and find no injuries. Thank goodness!I open my eyes, slowly, to check out my surroundings. The room has light pink walls and a window beside the bed with frilly white curtains. I don't recognize any of it. When I try to say something, nothing comes out. Frustrated, I lay back in bed for a few minutes.The rising headache, however, has me crawling out of bed and walking to the bathroom on the other side of the room. I search the medicine cabinet, for the pain reliever, and find it easier
The sight awaiting me outside is not what I'm expecting and are very intriguing. I may not remember anything else but I know I've never seen anything like this before. The houses are standing on stilts, one on each corner of the houses. There are about 20 houses sitting around a large pond.The waters of the pond are peaceful and it's very quiet. What caught my eyes, however, is the fact that the animals on the pond look fake. They look like plastic frogs, ducks, and there's an absence of insects. There's animal noises, and chirps, but it sounds as if the noise is coming out of speakers. Behind the houses, in a circle, sits a forest. Standing in the forest are more plastic animals. Deer, foxes, raccoons, and owls are all sitting in strategically placed areas. I notice that I have been standing, and staring at the area around me, on the steps of the porch. I walk down the steps and walk into the forest. Even the trees are plastic.What e
When Derek returns, I hand him the paper. I have several questions written on the paper and I'm hoping that he'll answer them. He reads them and begins to slowly answering each question, each time glancing to make sure I'm ready to hear the next answer. "I am 21 years old. It is the year 2038. I am a writer. I write science fiction novels." He glances at me for a second longer and mutters, "This sort of feels like a science ficition novel." He sighs and continues to answer some of my questions. "The President is Tyler Newman. It's his second term and we vote again in two years. We are currently in a small town named Chesterfield. It is located in the state of Illinois. It is a town that has been named only twenty five years ago." I give him a small nod of encouragement so he'll continue."All animals, aside from household pets, are extinct. All the forests have died." At my wide eyes, he elaborates, "We don't know what happened to them. They just wilted and died. They are still tryin
The hospital is pretty dark for a hospital, only leaving me more frightened than before. The only lights on are, little yellow ones, on the side of the wall. They remind me of runway lights. I clutch Derek’s arm as we walk down the hall. Sensing my fear, he pulls me closer to him wrapping
I’m not sure how long we take to please each other, but we lay exhausted on the floor, Derek held me in his arms. I’m sort of embarrassed by my behavior. I have no idea why I did that. Derek doesn’t seem to mind, or notice my embarrassment, as he talks about what we are going to do next.When he finishes talking, he stands up to get dressed. I sigh when the warmth leaves me, and he covers all his sexy parts. What is wrong with me? Shaking my head, I reluctantly get up because it’s time to move on.
We don’t go back to the hospital; instead I want to find out information about the three people in my memories. If I find them, then I may not need to go back to search the hospital. On the second day, of searching old newspapers, we find an article with their pictures on the top. It reads: April 11, 2038 The Daily News Three Doctors Arrested