October 11, 2013, 10:26 A.M
Location: Sacred Heart hospital.
*Beep* *Beep* *Beep*
Everybody I loved and cared were around my bed, helping me on my way to the afterlife. I am stuck in the hospital because I was hit with three diseases. Each of them called: Kawasaki disease, Meningitis, and the third one hasn't been clarified. Not to mention that I am going into septic shock.
My heart-rate is slowly depleting every minute, as of now, I only have an hour left to live.
Heart rate: 60
The doctors had said that there wasn’t much time left for me and that my family should see me before I go. My parents were shocked about the news and are sobbing next to me, wondering what horrific sin is causing me to go out like this, while my step-parents are sitting down behind them in a seat looking downcast at the floor. Any relatives who were close by drove over here as soon as they heard the news, and was given permission to see me.
What’s odd is how I don’t feel any major pain, you would assume that since you are dying you would feel like you’re body was on fire or something of the sorts, however the only thing that's really happened is me curling up into a ball and grabbing a container or a bucket every 5-15 minutes and throwing up. Other than the time where I coughed once and it felt like somebody stabbed two daggers into the back of my skull.
The doctors took it as a hint that Septic shock was setting in and my internal organs were going to shut down.
My heart rate was at Fifty-eight now, might as well break the ice with my parents now.
“You know” I began, “I don’t feel any pain, I don’t know if it’s the morphine they are giving me or I lost all connection with my nerves."
Dad, being the first to stop sobbing after a couple of minutes, replied first.
“Son, we love you, I would expect that the doctors do the least help by making your…..Departure as painless as possible,” he choked out, still shocked to believe his thirteen year old son is dying.
Heart rate is fifty-six now
“What are you going to do with my stuff after I…Leave?” I don’t want to use the death word, as it will send my parents back in mass hysteria.
“...We will probably store them in the attic, anything that is valuable we will keep in the house,” Mom answered after regaining her composure.
Fifty
I...I just want to come clean, admit all of my sins and hope that I will have everlasting life...But something is holding me back...
”……I'm not afraid…..Should I be afraid of death?” I ask.
“It depends, are you scared to meet our father?” dad replied, answering my question with a question.
Here's a hint: I’m catholic.
“In a way…But it’s more wondering what he looks like than fearing his judgment, I know I did bad things in my life that I regret. But I know I did more good things than bad,” I answered.
“Then you have nothing to worry about, I trust that our father will be fair,” dad replied, I had gotten him out of his sorrow state, distracting him with a different topic.
Forty-two
There is no use sitting around waiting for me to die, I want to do something, but I don’t know what. I want to leave my family on a happy note, to reassure them that I will die happy and that my family has nothing to worry about.
Suddenly Mom sits down next to me and starts rubbing my arm in an attempt to comfort me, as if I’m a five year old, I don’t blame her though; her only true son is dying. At a young age too.
I suppose now it’s time for me to introduce myself.
My name is Christopher Taylor, friends call me Silver, thirteen years old and dying. Mainly I’m a gamer, spending my free time on my vast arrange of consoles. However when I get the chance I go outside and enjoy myself, whether it be go-karts or shooting my Silver coated, Colt M1911A1 at the firing range with my step-dad, I pretty much enjoyed myself up until the point where I didn’t want to go onto a cold winter camp-out on my boy scout troop. And somehow, the day I was supposed to leave, I got a fever, as a result I spent 2 months in the hospital with the three diseases that rid my body of my life. At first they treated Kawasaki, but then I got a re-lapse and sent back to the hospital were I was given a spinal tap and diagnosed with Aseptic Meningitis, they treat that, then I go home.
I was all fine and dandy for a good two days before I woke up in the middle of the night puking and shivering. My local hospital couldn't figure things out, so they send me to sacred heart, stayed there for a month...Then started dieing...
I had a pretty good reputation, I had tons of friends at school and as soon as word got out that I was sick, peers started sending me get well soon cards. However they don’t know that I’m dying…yet. Surprisingly enough I’m a bit above average than the expected thirteen year old. You would figure that since I’m a gamer I’m scrawny and weak. Well, not entirely. Pretty much have a solid build on my body, even though I am a bit skinny, all the skin on me is muscles, I can lift pretty much Ninety-five percent of my body weight (which is 132 pounds) and I’m pretty agile. To be honest the reason why I worked out was because of bullies and intimidation effect.
Not long after my twelfth birth-…..Wait a second…What day is it…No…you can't be serious…I’m dying…..ON MY BIRTHDAY!?!?
“Dad, i can't believe this is happening," i say.
“I understand that you are dying son but-“
“No not that…it's that I’m dying…On my birthday,” I clarify.
Everybody looks up at me, confusion filling their eyes for a moment, after taking a second to look at me; they look at the date that’s posted on the white board containing my hospital profile. Sure enough, it the eleventh of October. I’m supposed to turn fourteen today, and instead I’m on my death bed.
Unfortunately that statement was enough to drive everyone back to tears.
Thirty-eight now, I had it going and I lost it.
Well, not stopping now. After my eleventh birthday my step-dad happened to give me his favorite gun: His colt M1911. He polished it so it almost looked silver with a mirror sheen. Ever since then I have been shooting it with him ever since. Next thing you know the gun is now my signature weapon.
Thirty now, everyone has reduced to quiet whimpers.
Moving on,ever since then I have been fascinated with contact. Although I made a promise to never use it on the offense, -not that I could even be the first one to attack mind you.- I was taught fight techniques and how to use a very vast range of weapons thanks to the military experience my dad and step-dad had (However I was limited to certain guns because of my familiarity with a certain section) . My step dad was a retired master sergeant in the delta force, before that he was in the green beret, and before THAT he was in the special forces, the best of the best, while my father was in the air force. Both are retired, however, they do go to work at the bases.
*Ring* *Ring*
“That’s my phone, can somebody get it please?” I ask to nobody in particular.
My step-father goes into my computer bag and brings out my IPhone 4S, he then steps over and places it in my hand. Weakly I raise the phone and turn it on. It turns out I have received three Facebook notifications and ten text messages from my peers at school. I almost dismissed it as a get well soon text, however, I noticed that they were different. Unlocking the phone I proceed to look at the text messages.
*Patrick: Stephen just got in an accident! He’s on his way to the emergency room!*
dumbfounded at what I just read I decide to look at the other texts and see that they all bear the same topic. Stephen Miller, my child hood best friend since first grade, is on his way to the ICU.
Confirming the truth one last time I look at Stephen’s Facebook profile and see that his last post is from his parents who got onto his account.
It read:
“As of 9:56, Stephen Miller, our son was struck by a oncoming vehicle on his way to school, He was taken out of harms way and peers called for help. Please pray for our son, He is on his way to the Intensive Care Unit. The doctors say it’s very severe and it doesn’t look like he will make it.”
That sent me over the edge; I drop the phone to the side and start crying softly, not making a sound. It doesn’t take long for my parents to notice and they start asking what’s wrong.
“My best friend….. Stephen is in an accident, it seems….. Very likely he won’t make it….. like me,” I answer weakly.
My heart rate is at Fifteen now, as fate would have it I see a bed containing a bloody teenager being rushed just outside the doorway and into the room next to me. It doesn’t take long for me to notice it was Stephen who went past the room. It even seems like everyone noticed the person in the bed as well, as everyone was startled.
“I’m dying and…. as a farewell… my…. best friend…. is dying?” I state weakly.
Heart rate – 10
I’ve reached the point where I can no longer move or talk, just wobble my head back and forth and move my eyes. It also seems that I’m losing my hearing as everyone is starting to sound muffled and distant, as if they were moving far away.
HR – 7
There isn’t much I can do besides wait for my death. Some of the doctors start coming in to wait. Readying to take me away after I die. I don't even know how they knew my vitals were dropping.
HR - 5
Everything starts to sound distant, tunnel vision is setting in. My entire body is starting to feel numb, spreading from my arms and legs to my torso. It's feels so foreign i want to scream out, but i don't have the energy to do so.
HR – 3
It’s getting really dark; my parents hold both of my hands in an attempt to comfort me as i make my way to death.
HR- 1
My last minute here, I slowly drift off into the darkness, letting a silent tear roll off my face.
___/\_____________
Darkness…It's all there is…or is it?
Little did I know that one of the nurses was secretly a lunar princess from another universe.