Nobody knew when their last day would arrive, well unless you were like me. Then every day could be your last, and today did not differ from yesterday.
Something was wrong with the vision sensors in my brain. The doctors could only fix the crazy with invasive surgery. I never loved the idea of someone poking inside my head—literally. Fear of waking, finding my life wasn't the same anymore, tugged at the walls of my stomach.
"I love you, Sophie, and you're going to ace this." Dad's tender smile and glistening eyes stared back at me through the other side of the video-call. His messy hair tried to hide the wrinkle of his brows.
He had dark circles under his eyes. When was the last time he slept?
A tired chuckle escaped my lips as the tears lingered in my father's eyes. He struggled hard not to show me how he felt—scared shitless.
My fingers brushed the screen of my tablet. "Love you, Dad."
"Love you more, don't let your mom yell at the doctors too much."
"Hey," Mom barked. "I only yell when they deserve it."
We chuckled. I drew an x with my finger over my chest and touched my lips before our chat ended.
Dark blinds covered the window, and the pale walls of my room carried a cold and impersonal aura. I laid my head back on the soft pillow while an interview with Taylor Swift murmured on the TV.
Doctors getting paged over the intercom, the constant whooshing of slippers, and rattling IVs attached to walking patients depraved me from sleeping during the day.
My stomach twisted into knots as a tightness clasped around my chest. The anxiety became a constant companion, even if Dr. Bryanston mentioned daily he had my back.
Mom shifted around in the uncomfortable worn-out visitor's chair next to the bed, reading a magazine. She was stunning with an oval face, blonde wavy hair—the complete opposite of mine—and green, feline-shaped eyes with silken eyelashes escaping punishment when she'd fluttered them.
Mom ripped a page from the magazine.
I raised an eyebrow at her. A tired curve pulled at the corner of my lips.
"What?" Mom shrugged and showed me a crochet pattern on the torn page.
I huffed. I couldn't wait to be a normal eighteen-year-old girl again.
Today marked a year since my entire life changed for the worst.
Vivid dreams plagued me. In one dream, a flaming bird summoned me close with a melody. When I reached the phoenix, I burned. A quick search of 'dream meanings' on the internet had told me a change was coming.
Well, the change came.
A logo of a two-dimensional drawing of a diamond, rectangular shapes in symmetrical alignment filled the inside, appeared vividly in the second dream. No matter how many google searches I did, I couldn't find the logo.
After the dreams, my first skull-splitting migraine introduced itself, with the entire little migraine family's regular visits. I ended up in the hospital many times because of the pain. The headaches killed my personality and the 'non compos mentis' ruined my life. I used to be snarky and quick to speak my mind, but now I only wanted quiet. Anything to soothe the pain.
The last part of the change...
The door swung open and Colby, the nurse, strolled into my room. Her curvy hips moved side to side with each step and her furious red hair almost glowed. Her sleek, black tail swayed behind her butt. She'd become a dear friend the past four days. Colby grabbed the chart in front of my bed and attached the result of my latest MRI for Dr. Bryanston.
She flashed her grin—only for her favorite patients—and winked at me before she turned and left the room. I couldn't stop staring at her flailing tail.
Colby wasn't the only one with a tail. There were others, too.
Some had cat ears, others owned a mean pair of ram horns. One guy even had an eagle beak, but they were scarce. The animalistic features became a common thing after my first headache eased. These human-creatures walked among the ordinary folk of Tacoma, Washington.
The dreams and the headaches were the reason for the wild, crazy beaks and tails roaming around us. Not a single word escaped my lips about what I could see, especially to Francis and Daniel Emerson, my adoptive parents.
Faint bells chimed. A sigh escaped my lips. Oh, yeah, I forgot the orbs of silver bright light that appeared with the tails and ears. I swatted at a ball of light dangling above my head. The faint ringing of the bells followed whenever these specks of lights soared above me. Their brightness enhanced the headaches, so I made it my mission to ignore them. But one thing was for sure, they liked the little swatting attention I sent their way—meaning; I was the only one that could see them.
I used to think the orbs were spirits. I entertained the idea of opening an agency to help the departed find the light. Spirits Go Inc. and Follow the Light were names I conjured for this agency. According to the internet, they were way too bright to be ghostly orbs.
The tiny speck flew past Dr. Bryanston when he entered the room. "You ready, Sophie?"
I nodded. Dr. Bryanston's golden eyes penetrated my soul. They used to freak me out, but I got used to them. The color made me forget about the operation laying ahead.
He whispered to Mom. Her hand covered her collarbone and her thin, shapely eyebrows knitted together as she listened to the words leaving the doctor's mouth.
Colby entered the room, her tail flicking behind her, and lifted the side rails of the cot. She rolled my bed toward the door and stopped.
Mom leaned over and pressed her lips against my forehead. Her hand clasped mine as she lifted her head. Her smile didn't reach her tear-filled eyes. "I'll be here, waiting for you, baby?"
"You can try out that crochet pattern you tore out earlier from the magazine," I said in a flat tone. Mom closed her eyes as red dusted her cheeks. I loved teasing her.
The nurses and Dr. Bryanston laughed as my eyes closed before entering the hallway with its sharp, headache inducing lights.
Colby pushed me out of the room.
"Love you, Sophie Emerson," Mom yelled.
"Love you too, you crazy woman."
Dr. Bryanston followed us on our long trek to the operation room. My heart hammered with every step and jostle of the bed. Please, God, let this be a success.
I despised hospitals, as this was my life for the past 183 days.
Goosebumps spread across my skin and my body shivered as they rolled me into the room. I opened my eyes. White tiles covered the walls. Shelves and steel tables lined the one wall with a computer on a desk and a stool with wheels. The room caused more turning and knotting inside my stomach. A heart monitor and a ventilator stood out among other machines.
Two giant round lights—still off—hung from the ceiling. My bed came to a halt next to the operating table and the medical staff transferred me from the bed onto the table. My heart thumped inside my chest and a sadness mixed with anxiety gnawed at my core.
Colby hooked the saline bag she carried on the silver frame resembling a hat stand. She smiled as she worked fast, attaching wires to the gel pads she'd stuck earlier on my chest.
Hot flushes warmed my cheeks, and I couldn't hold eye contact with Colby and the other staff. What eighteen-year-old flashed her boobs to the world? Except for the PlayBoy Bunnies, but I had no fluffy tail.
The LED heart monitor mimicked the beats of my heart.
"Hi, Sophie, I'm Dr. Blunt, I'll be your anesthesiologist and party director on this fun cruise," a deep voice said, coming from my left.
I chuckled and turned my head. A dashing older man sat by my head. He had laughing lines at the corners of his eyes. A mask covered the rest of his face. White hair protruded from the bouffant-style cap. He squirting liquid into my IV and placed a mask on my face.
"Sophie, time to count backwards from 100 please," Dr. Bryanston said. He always asked me to count backwards. What was up with that?
"100, 99, 9..." My lips couldn't finish the word eight, but I was still awake. I listened to their laughter as my mind got to 95.
Dr. Bryanston stared at me when I reached 93, 92 and 90. My body was asleep, but the murmuring and soft chattering still reached my ears. Dr. Bryanston's figure remained next to my bed. His smile disappeared as he let out a gush of air. "Call Dr. Dent."
Who is Dr. Dent?
The door opened.
"You are free to leave," a deep voice ordered.
The shuffle of footsteps moved toward the entrance. The swinging sound of doors followed, and the soft chatter left the room.
A few moments later, a door opened, and footsteps pattered into the room.
The deep voice commanded, "Do the electroencephalography correct this time. Make sure you record the electrical activity. I don't want a fuck up like the last time. This recording is crucial. We need to witness what her brain activity shows before we pull the plug."
Pull the what? What the fu...? Who are these people? Why didn't Dr. Bryanston mention any other doctor's help to my parents?
"She has the gene, doesn't she?" Dr. Bryanston asked.
What do I have? Cancer, an alien growing inside my head, what?
"Yes. Ms. Emerson's ability causes her headaches. You did the right thing."
My ability to do what? What the hell are they saying?
"So, what do you think she is?" Dr. Bryanston asked.
What I am? I'm Sophie, who loves life and wants to carry on living without these skull-splitting headaches. Thank you very much.
"No idea, but I don't want to be here when it shows itself. These creatures are uncontrollable. Believe me, we've tried everything."
Itself and these creatures? Did I have a creature burrowed into my brain?
The heart monitor mimicked the increase in sound that pounded behind my ribcage.
"Damn it. She's not asleep!" The doctor came into my view. Deep wrinkles formed the outlines from his nose to lips. A stern, unforgiving expression embedded in his gaze. He didn't wear a mask. Cold brown eyes glared at me.
"No, we had put her to sleep," Dr. Bryanston replied, and the confusion narrowed his eyes.
Wake up, stupid body! I tried to wiggle my toes and fingers, but nothing. I don't want to die. Please, please, please. Mom!
Dr. Dent squinted at the HRM and pressed a button before he turned to gaze at me. "It's as if she can hear us."
What are you talking about now? I'm looking straight at you, Dr. Dent, or better, Dr. Death!
"So what do I tell her mother when I give her the news?" Dr. Bryanston asked, as they both ignored the HRM.
"It's the brain, Bryanston. Plenty of things can go wrong."
"She's going to demand to see her daughter's body."
The words 'Pulled the plug', 'creatures', 'itself' and 'daughter's body' jumped into my thoughts. It made sense now. Today was my last day.
I tried to move my arms and legs again. In my mind, I rolled off this table, sprinting down the hallway. I didn't want to die. I was too young to die. My attempts were without success as the squeaking wheels rolled into the room.
"I already took care of that, Bryanston."
Dr. Bryanston left my side. Dr. Dent turned back to the heart monitor. The beeping of fingers pressing buttons reached my ears.
A zipper pulled.
"It looks so much like her?" Dr. Bryanston's voice came from my left.
What? Like me? A clone jumped into my head. No, human clones didn't exist.
I had to escape, but my stupid body did nothing. Mom, help! God, please, please help! I don't want to die. Mom!
"To be cautious, put her in straps." Dr. Dent eyed me.
The beat on the heart monitor flared up further. A headache formed, pounding against my temples. Black spots danced in my sight. The door opened.
"You shouldn't be here!" Dr. Dent bellowed, and then a ruckus exploded.
Harsh, high-pitched beeps radiated from the HRM. Grunts, shrieks, and dull sounds filled the room, mixed with the clinking of metal connecting with the tiles. Punches and groans reached my ears.
The old doctor worked fast. The desperate shuffling of objects moved around on the silver tray. When he turned back to me, he pulled the glass vial's content into a syringe. A silver scalpel flew over me and jabbed into his chest.
A grunt escaped his lips as crimson seeped through his scrubs. He didn't stop, and aimed the needle at my neck. A silver tray zoomed inches above my nose and hit Dr. Dent straight on the corner of his temple. The dull sound of him connecting with the floor reached my ears.
There was no pain, only the tugging at my feet.
A giant doctor appeared. He stood over me, breathing hard. A regular surgical style cap covered his black hair, a mask covering his face, and scrubs. He killed the constant beeping of my monitor and removed the IV attached to my arm.
His gaze met mine, and the green and brown of his heterochromatic eyes were hypnotic. He tapped my cheek twice and grunted.
Hard pounding came from the door. "Open this door!" Colby's voice barked from the other side.
Colby!
The doctor lifted his hand to his left ear. "I found her, but they sedated her. She's out."
Who is he speaking to? There is no one here.
"I tried to wake her up," he barked.
Wake me? I am awake! Why did all of them think I was asleep? Unless... I was. What the hell is wrong with me?
Loud pounding sounded at the door. "Open this door, now!" A male voice, which I assumed was the hospital security, yelled.
Help! My scream echoed against the walls of my mind. My heart pounded as I tried to move my floaty and prickly body.
"I have no choice," the doctor growled and pulled out his earbud.
"Drake!" a faint, tiny voice came from the bud. He didn't reply.
"Stand back!" the man yelled behind the door.
The door crashed open as darkness spread from the corner of my sight. A beak, loads of feathers and a pair of wings stood in the place the doctor had a few seconds ago. Then the dark void enveloped my sight.
I hoped you like this. Thanks for reading. If you loved the chapter don't forget to hit that star button, thanks so much for giving my book a chance.
Pun of the day. I wanted to visit the world's biggest library but it was overbooked.