I made a mistake at age 18. One I can never get back. Most people when they reach 18 do something exciting. Like going to college. But I did something stupid.
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“Do it! Do it! Do. It!” My friends chanted at me as we stood in the tattoo shop. I didn’t want to get a tattoo especially not at this sketchy-looking place. With boarded windows and rusted leaking pipes. But I lost a bet, and I am not a sore loser.
I walk up to the counter and I’m greeted by a woman who looks like she’s dying at 30. “Excuse me, ma’am? I would like a tattoo please.” I say with hesitation.
“Ah, of course, dear. Do you have anything in mind?” She asks me as she verified my ID. I shake my head and look back at my friends who are talking by the cracked wood-covered widows.
“Right this way honey.” She starts to walk towards the very uncomfortable-looking chair in the middle of the room. I follow behind her and sit in the indeed uncomfortable chair.
“You ready?” She asks me with this glint in her eyes I just can’t place. I nod and close my eyes as she begins.
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“Done.” She steps back from me and I look at the back of my hand to see a date written there in thick black ink.
October 12, 2024.
I look at the woman in confusion. “I don’t get it,” I say.
“Oh, you will. Trust me. You’ll understand very soon…” * * * * That brings me to now. Laying in a hospital bed struggling to breathe. ‘I understand now. I get it.’ I think as I take my last breath.
Alissa Genevieve Born: October 11, 2004 Died: October 12, 2024
Waking up in a hospital bed unable to move is never fun. That’s what happened to me. On October 14, 2032.
I don’t remember what happened at all. I just woke up In this hospital room. “Hello?” My voice is unrecognizable and barely audible against the loud aggressive beeping of the heart monitor next to me. I try again to move my arms but it’s impossible. The door across the room slides open to reveal a young lady around the age of 28 or so. She smiles at me and walks over. “Hello there, Melody! I’m Nurse Sandra. How are you feeling? It’s been a while hasn’t it?” She says as she checks my vitals.
“I’m feeling awful. And what are you talking about? How long has it been? I don’t remember you at all. Or anything.” I say as I slowly turn my head in her direction.
“It’s been a while. A year to be exact. You’ve been out since the incident.” Sandra says nonchalantly.
“A year!? What?” I say with my extremely sore throat. She hums at my questions and helps me take some of what I assume is pain medication.
“Yes. You’ve been in this coma for a whole year. I’ve been the main one looking after you. The incident caused you to go into one of the most extreme cases of comas possible.” Sandra stated as she helped me sit up.
“What incident? I don’t remember.” I ask again trying to ignore my hurting and sore body.
“You don’t remember that the city was almost destroyed by an unknown force?” She says with wide eyes.
“What!?”