New Yorker

Chapter One

I want to die. I need to die soon. It's what they all want, you know. The nurses, the doctors, even my own parents. I heard them say it once. Sam, if only you could die. Of course you want me dead. You ran out of hope for your own poor son two years ago when he first fell into this bastard of a paralysis. I do often wonder if they know i can hear them. Hear all their whispered wishes, see all of their tears. If they did, i doubt they would come so often. I believe they would leave their wishes for the clouds, their tears for privacy.
My mind tells me to die, my body told me not to, forcing itself to prevent me from doing anything of the sort. It's normally just me and my mind. Wait, no, let me correct myself. It is always just me and my mind. Sometimes, like now, i completely clear my mind. It usually only lasts a minute or so, but clearing my head allows me to focus all my effort on moving. Rarely, it'll trigger a twitch of my finger or even a bite of my own tongue. As odd as it sounds, i crave for that movement. I suppose it may be hard for you to grasp. That is what I am doing now. Staying calm, keeping my mind clear. I could almost feel my body, as if I was in control of it once more. I know it was a long shot, but I felt as if I could sit up. I tried it.

Pain seared through me, the main point seeming to be my head. It spread down my chest, making me shiver. I also felt cold. Very cold. As if I wasn't even in my bed anymore.

"Ello? Who's there? Ya gonna 'ave to come out, y'know. Can't let just anyone in my little 'aven". I looked around for the voice. It seemed to belong to (and my eyesight was poor in the sudden darkness) a girl. She was around my age, I believe, with what I could only describe as a box in one hand. In the other was a camera. I couldn't be sure, however, for the light was scarce and it certainly wasn't the sort of camera I'd ever come across. It looked like one of those cameras you see in old photos. The ones that fold out. I wondered why she had one. She wore what seemed to be a potato sack. Well, that's what it looked like. I wondered if this whole thing was a stunt, and whether I should just play along with it.

"I said, who's there? Thassit, I'm coming to see who you are!"
I heard footsteps approach me in the dark, but as soon as she had taken a few steps she stopped. I heard a ringing noise in my ears and I was impressively confused, but I answered all the same.

"I'm Sam. And I don't- I don't know how I got here," I said truthfully. I figured it was better to be honest than lie with the risk I could be found out. I attempted to sit up. Much to my suprise, my body did what I willed it to. It felt foreign, though. I suppose it's just what happens after being immobile for so long. I decided to put this wonder away for now; as I do most often with things, and continued.

"Sam Quinn. May I ask the same to you?"

"I guess," the girl shrugged. "The name's Millie Moore. How do you not know how you got 'ere?"

"Well, I last remember being in a hospital room."

"You're not from round 'ere, then. The hospitals are nasty, and you don't seem that dirty."

"Guess not. Care to tell me where I am, then?"

"Through the alley by the park."

"What park?"

"Get up. I'll show ya'."

The mysterious girl led me through the dark alleyway, which seemed to have a bright light at the end. I was very wobbly on my feet, but I managed to walk all the same. I was guided all the way through, to the blinding end. Then, she pointed to the "playground", and said:

"See? Welcome to New York, 1864!"

All I could do was stare.