Waking Up in a Hospital Room: A Short Story

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I woke up to the pungent smell of hospital disinfect, invading my nostrils. The room was silent apart from my heavy breathing and the beep beep sound you often hear in hospitals that indicates you're alive. I slowly opened my eyes, squinting in attempt to sharpen the blurred images before me. I glanced around and took in the deserted, blue and white colour schemed hospital bedroom. How long have I been here? I shut my eyes, trying to remember what had exactly happened. Then it all hits me with a bang. The memory of it all starts to occupy my thoughts. I did it. I jumped off. The cold air hitting my face as I plummet towards the gravel. Some panicking, some remained still. I heard one lady scream. Crashed. The pain jolted throughout my body. It didn't hurt as much as the realisation that I didn't succeed. I was still alive. People started to surround me, some dialing 911 to seek for professional help. A man was telling me "Hold on, you'll be fine". I didn't want to hold on. Who brought me here? Out of impulse, my hand travels to my face, pressing the throbbing area on my right temple. I felt a scar and flinched at the pain. I tried to get up. Once I stepped on the cold, white tiles, I instantly fell back on to the bed. My body, engulfed in pain as if objecting my decision to stand up. I lay there pathetically, waiting for the pain to wash away. Staring at the ceiling, illuminated with a white fluorescent light. Perhaps waiting for some help by the hospital staff. I still didn't know how I got here, who took me here, how long I've been here. My series of questions was interrupted as a devilishly handsome man, with brown hair and mesmerizing hazel eyes, emerged from the door of my room, with a mobile phone close to his ear, talk... ... middle of paper ... ...ldn't want to leave the craziness of NYC and go back to dull old Geraldine. Aunt Leslie then snapped me out of my deep thought asking whether I was okay. I told her I was even if it was obviously a complete lie. "So shall we go back to Geraldine tomorrow morning? Or would you like to leave in the evening?" Leave? No. "Pardon me, Aunt Leslie, but what do you mean by leaving? I'm not going back to Geraldine. I love it here." She looked at me as if I was mad. "How could you possibly love it here? The streets are crowded, the people are loud, the air is filthy" She didn't get me. I know she didn't. But I don't want to go back. In the end, after hours of loud arguments, we finally settled down to an agreement. If I can prove to her I can get way better in a month I could stay, if I couldn't, it's bye bye New York for me. Well then, I wish myself the best of luck.

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