Something is going on here
I need to figure it out
Before my fragile heart goes still
Forever
Alexia Richardson
This is still a draft so sorry if there are mistakes, which I'm sure there are. Enjoy! And please comment and vote. Thanks :) Also no copying this story. It's mine so if you steal my story I'll hunt you down myself. Copyrights!
This book takes place in the future. So here are the definitions for some of the technology of the future:
DSS- digital small screen
DLS- digital large screen
Hullo- a vehicle which you give the destination and it takes you there
Jeepod- jeep version of the Hullo
FFM200- fast food machine Model #200
1
Your heart is fragile. The four words every teenage girl in the year of twenty-ninety-five wants to hear.
More like my worst fear has become reality.
"So how long is my treatment going to be?" I look at the young doctor, whose hands are stuffed in his white lab coat pockets.
He smiles at me, revealing pearly white teeth. "Only a few months or so."
"A few months or so," I echo. Like that's no big deal at all. This is my life we're discussing here, for goodness sake.
"Yes, but you'll be cured once it's all done."
"Not if I die from my fragile heart before you can cure me," I snap a little too harshly. I'm the one who feels the fists slowly closing around my heart and suffocating it, not this stupid doctor. So how dare he tell me that this would all be over soon? That I'll for sure be cured. Because maybe... maybe I won't.
My fingers curl into fists, my eyes fixed on the lime-green tiles. I'm not interested in being optimistic. Too many have died from this, who says I won't be one of them?
"Alison Margaret Rose," he addresses me by my full name, not a good sign, "Many teenagers these days suffer from fragile hearts and only fifty-seven percent of them die from it. That's why President White launched the cure for free, so we can help the younger generation from dying out."
Only? Fifty-seven is more than half which still isn't a good sign for me. All I end up saying is, "I know."
"Good, now why don't you go speak to your brother. He seems anxious to hear from you. You have fifteen minutes before we take you to the clinic."
I nod, jumping down from the hard metal table I've been sitting on, and walk through the glass doors into the connecting room.
"Alice." My older brother Danny's eyes-- the same deep blue inherited from Dad--are scanning me over, his face falling when he sees my expression. "What did the doctor say?"
"I have a fragile heart." My voice is low, my tears breaking free and rolling down my cheeks. He pulls me close, his chin resting on the top of my head. I've always felt small compared to him.
"Everything will be okay," Danny murmurs, pushing my hair away from my face, "They'll cure you and you'll be home before you know it."
I look at him through clouded eyes. "How do you know? How do you know I won't be one of those to die?"
He looks me directly in the eyes as he says, "Because you're my little sister and I know that you're strong-hearted."
"Not strong-hearted enough to avoid one more year of catching Fragile Heart Syndrome. Not as strong-hearted as you," I say bitterly.
"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.
I frown. Everything is so empty, just like how I feel at the moment.
"The bathroom is through there." The guy points to the poorly painted door beside the closet. I wish I could paint it over.
"Okay, thanks."
"Dinner is in twenty, I'll come to get you then. Meanwhile, you can settle in. This is your home now." Though his voice is soft, it seems to bounce off the whitewashed walls. This is your home now, ringing in my ears.
"Gee, thanks." I glare at him. This is your home now, seriously? My hands ball into fists.
He doesn't notice. "See you soon." He smiles, before leaving the room.
I enter the bathroom and start the shower, steam filling up the room, causing honey-brown waves to curl around my face. Heart-shaped, Hunter used to say. 'Your hair dips in and your chin is like a cute little point.'
I try to push him out of my head, before slipping out of my clothes and stepping into the shower, but I can feel the memory already coming...
"Hey, beautiful."
I look up from the book that I'm reading on my DSS to see Hunter leaning against the doorframe, a cute smile plastered onto his face. "What are you hiding behind your back?" I ask after I notice that his hands are behind him.
His smile spreads as he brings his hands before him, revealing a sparkly blue bag. "A gift for the lady," he exclaims.
My feet swing over the side of my bed and I quickly stand up, making my way for him and snatching the bag out of his hands. Peeking inside my eyes widen. "Oh wow," I breathe, "it's beautiful."
"Go put it on," he says.
I remove the dress from the bag, examining it better. The fabric is one of the finest, nice and rich, in a deep red gathering at the waist. "How did you know what size to get me?"
"I asked Elena." Clever boy by consulting my best friend.
I smile. "Thanks, I love it."
"Hurry and go change. We're going out to celebrate my birthday!"
"Yes, sir." I salute. "Now turn around and don't peek," I tell him.
"I wouldn't dream of it." I catch a glimpse of a smirk on his face before he turns around, leaving his back to me.
I slip out of my hoodie and jeans and quickly change into the dress, the fabric cool against my skin.
"You can turn around."
He does, his eyes widening and his mouth dropping open. "Whoa," his voice comes out husky. "You look breathtaking."
"Thanks, you chose well," I smile, a blush making its way onto my cheeks, "But it's your birthday tomorrow I'm supposed to be giving you the presents, not the other way around."
"I know, but tonight is our anniversary; it's been two years now. You forgot didn't you?"
I look away guilty, "It's been an eventful week." Which is true.
1. Saturday night I was in bed crying since it's been a year since my parents' deaths.
2. Tonight (Tuesday) is our second year anniversary since we announced ourselves as a couple in public.
3. And tomorrow well, is his seventeenth birthday...
"It's okay," he says, taking hold of my hand and giving it a small tug. "Let's just get out of here, shall we?"
"We shall."
The shower has gone cold, the coldness consuming me. If only it would freeze my fragile heart.
I hate memories, especially that one because it reminds me of what took place the next day. Hunter was seventeen just like me when he was told he had FH Syndrome. I haven't seen him since then and that was over a year ago. Is he still going through the cure? Or did he die from his fragile heart? Am I going to die from my fragile heart, or would the cure work on me?
I turn the shower off and step out dripping wet. Wrapping the small towel around myself, I emerge from the bathroom to find the guy (need to figure out what his name is ASAP) sitting on the bed. He stands up when I enter, his face turning bright red, "I'm sorry," he says, not looking at me, "But twenty minutes passed. I came to get you for dinner."
I feel the heat rising to my own cheeks. Holding onto the towel for dear life, I walk over to the tiny closet. "Can you give me five to get dressed?"
"Oh... yeah... sure. I'll be waiting right outside." He quickly leaves the room.
Once the door closes shut behind him, I go and choose a light gray gown with pants. Luckily I get to keep my shoes. The fit of the gown and pants are perfect. How did they get my size?
Five minutes later I open the door to my room and slip out into the hallway, which I noticed smells like bleach. Definitely not a pleasant smell.
"Ready?" the guy asks.
I nod, following him down the dimly lit hallway in silence. Okay, this is pretty awkward. Why does he have to make this awkward?
· Before coming out of the bathroom in a towel that barely covers you, check that there are no guys in the room.
At last, we come to a stop in front of a set of sliding doors. The doors open and with my weak heart thudding widely- - we enter the cafeteria. All heads turn our way and I feel like a baby lamb among hungry lions.
"Derek," a guy calls out, "Who's the new girl? Your latest rebound? Since you're still not over Kimberly..."
A few people snicker. The guy next to me tenses his hands balling into fists. "Shut up Drake," he growls.
"It's just a joke, Derek, calm down," a girl says.
I look at the guy standing beside me, who I now know goes by the name of Derek. I like it. It suits him well. He ignores her, turning to me. I realize that I'm staring and look away. "Come, I'll show you where to get your meal."
He leads me across the room, my shoes squeaking on the polished tiles. "They seem like a friendly bunch," I comment.
"They actually are once you get to know them, but stay clear from Drake for your own good."
"Why?"
He glances my way briefly, his dark eyes mesmerizing. "Because he's a complete and utter jerk."
"Aha, I see."
We reach the back of the large room where the FFM200 is. "Dinner please," Derek says to the machine.
"Veggie burger and sweet potatoes," the machine states, its mouth opening up to reveal a plate piled with food.
"Dinner is served," Derek smiles, handing me the plate, "Now I got to go. I'll see you around."
"Thanks and same," I say, watching him walk off.
I then look around the room counting six round tables in total; full of rowdy teenagers. My eyes pause on the girl sitting in solitude at the round table in the corner. Seems like she may be the safest one here to approach.
"Hey." I smile weakly, sliding into the seat beside her.
She looks up, her baby-blue eyes widening. Pretty much the same shade as the hospital set she's wearing. "Um hi."
"I'm Alice and you are?"
She inspects the room before turning back to me. "Summer."
"Cool." I take hold of my veggie burger (healthy food= healthy heart) and bite into it, ketchup dripping down my chin. I begin to wipe at it with my fingers.
"Napkin?"
"Thanks," I smile, wiping off the ketchup, "So Summer how old are you?"
"Sixteen, and you?"
"Seventeen just today." One more year and I would've been free. And well here I am not at all free of FH Syndrome. This, of course, I keep to myself.
"Hey look crazy Summer made a new friend." My eyes land on Drake who's making his way toward our table, "And what's your new friend's name?" Summer sinks into her chair beside me, her already pale face going even paler. "What's wrong Summer? Cat got your tongue?"
"Leave her alone," I say, my chair scraping on the floor as I stand up.
Drake's small, beady eyes stare at me, his beak nose flaring with anger. "What did you say?"
"You heard me."
He moves so fast that I don't see the punch coming, catching me off-guard. I double over in pain, gasping for breath.
"Stop," Summer cries.
My vision turns blurry, stars dancing before my eyes. Oh no, this can't be good.
And that's when everything goes dark.