My eyes open. I can feel my heart thumping, “boom, boom, boom.” My throat closes up. I struggle to breathe. It feels like there are a thousand pounds on my chest, and if I could only struggle out from under the weight this would all end. But I can’t, and this is not ending.
I try to whisper out a small cry with my weak weary voice, “Help.”
My sound goes nowhere.
“This is it.” I think to myself in my head. “This is how my story ends.”
I am trapped, no one can hear me, and I may be defeated by my lack of confidence. The world spins around me in circles. I try to pick a focus point with the hope of holding for just one, two, three more minutes that someone will realize I need help. I wait, but no one comes. No one realizes. I know that I would not be in this situation if I had listened. If I had listened to anyone and everyone I would not feel trapped inside myself, but I didn’t. I decided the information and words that were being told to me were not valuable enough to actually consider. In that decision, I laid my death-bed and chose my fate to be exactly where I am right now.
I lay silently now trying to let my mind rest. I hear the door start to creak open. I hope for a second that it will be a familiar face, but it is not, and I know that is for the best. The doctor walks in my room. I think that when she sees my face, she can see the discomfort and eeriness that I have. I tilted my head so that I could see her eyes being slightly covered up by the caution suit.
“Am I going to die?” I ask her, not really knowing if I want to hear the answer.
She smiled at me with the biggest smile I had ever seen. She took my hand and held up a small needle with some form of liquid inside of it.
She said, “Skylar, we did it. We found an antidote to the coronavirus. You do not need to suffer any longer, and neither does anyone else like you.”
She inserted the shot into me. I felt a pinch, and then I felt relief. I gave the doctor a hug, and cried happy tears. I am going to be okay.