Release Me

"I was lucky, you know that."

"You always have all the luck, unlike me, Hunter, and Gabby." I want to pull these words right back into my big mouth, but it's already too late. I can see by the way his mouth turns upside down in a frown that the damage is done. Glancing away, my eyes land on the guy, who looks like some caretaker, standing in the doorway. I hadn't heard him enter.

"Alison please come with me," the guy says.

I begin to follow him.

"Alice." Danny grabs onto my arm, his eyes gazing into mine. "I love you and I'll see you soon."

"I know." I leave the room with the caretaker, parting with my normal, healthy life forever.

...

I will never forget Gabby; she was one of my best friends. Cheerful, a bright smile always plastered on her beautiful, strong face. We were fourteen when she caught FH Syndrome. Actually, I was still thirteen, since she was five months older than me. It was supposed to take her about seven months to go through the cure. After three months or so, her father was commed. Gabby didn't make it through the cure. Her heart was fragile and it___ it killed her.

The doctor told me that my treatment should last a few months or so. How helpful? Hopefully, they'll be able to cure me, because I don't want the same fate as Gabby. I want to live

"Your age?" I meet the guy's eyes, noticing how dark they are-- practically black with long sandy brown eyelashes, making them seem even darker. They're something beautiful to look at in all this darkness.

"Seventeen," I choke, "I had one more year to go."

He touches my arm lightly, his hand burning hot against my cool skin. "You'll be cured, I promise."

Oh gosh, it's hard to be optimistic. Screw it. Why is everyone telling me that? How do they know that the cure will for sure work on me? I'll most probably be dead in a few months. And my life has only begun.

He leads me outside the building to where the Jeepod awaits, ready to cart me off to the clinic. The car senses me approaching and the back door slides open. I climb in, hoping that the caretaker won't notice that I'm trembling.

"How are you feeling?" the guy asks, slipping into the seat beside me.

"Why are you asking me all of these questions?"

He smiles, revealing dimples. "If I recall I've only asked one more question before this one___two in total."

"I'm feeling fine," I mumble, resting my head against the window and watch the doctor's office grow smaller and smaller as we pull away. The Jeepod turns onto the highway and a tear rolls down my cheek as we leave my hometown far behind.

...

"This will be your bedroom." The guy comes to an abrupt stop and I crash right into him. He steadies me, his hands touching my arms lightly. They're still burning hot.

"Um, thanks." I look away, sensing the heat creeping up my neck. Yay, my face is now as bright red as a diaper rash.

He pushes the steel door open and I step over the threshold, my eyes taking in the small room.

1. The paint is whitewashed, making everything more dull and colorless.

2. A bed lies in the center of the room, beside a short nightstand with a lamp.

3. In the far right corner is the closet, a few clothes already hanging. They look like short hospital gowns with pants. Definitely giving me clinic vibes.