Too Young

This was meant to be as short as it is; it was an audition piece that couldn't exceed 500 words.

"And?" he asked in that stupid voice of his.

            "That's basically all," I replied, choking on "all." He gave me that stupid "mmmhmm" and head nod, continuing writing down what he thought was wrong with me.

            "My conjecture is you don't desire to be here. To further this point, you're being abnormally blunt with me tonight," he commented, not lifting his head from his note pad; his voice bugged my soul it was so annoying. I said nothing to him. Why respond? He was just being stupid.

            "What about," he began, slow, because I, of course, can't adequately comprehend, "your mother?" Staring at him, I felt every human emotion.

            "My mother. What a topic. Everything seems so fresh, although I know it's not. If I concentrate real hard, I can still smell her hair… and that room.

            "It was freezing for March, but I can't say I minded. Like normal, I was outside waiting for my ride to school, but, instead of the bus coming, a police car did; I wound up in the ICU during the morning.

            "Hospitals weren't fun, and this definitely wasn't; I can't say, but I was there far too long. And she was there all-" I stopped myself; he was staring.

            "Go on," he encouraged.

            "All…purple. And sickly. She looked like death." He continued on with his business, and so did I.

            "I can't say how I felt. Probably… sad, right? Upset, right? A normal person would-"

            "Please continue." I sat further back on my chair at his interruption.

            "I didn't think it was fair. I was in her room, watching her. I remember hearing she was alive through those wires and plastic machines. There were so many machines; they all had a ton of these little blinking lights and pastel- colored wires… and they kept humming, like they were happy. Then I saw a light blink out, then another; five flashed on and off. The machine's power was failing." When he didn't look up from his desk, I pressed on.

            "Soon after, some medical guy came in and checked her. He rushed in and out with so many doctors. I knew why.

            "Once the commotion and such died down, I sat on the bed with her again. She was gone. I didn't need some stupid machine to tell me anything. Her shell lay there. A dead, empty, shell of a-"

            "Please. I'm asking for what happened, okay?" He shot a look from his stupid face.

            "It finally set in and… I cried. Pretty bad, too. I wanted my mommy… and she wasn't here. These machines… th-they needed to go away! All of them! They needed to go away!" I began crying for the first time since her death in her coma.

            "Away… far, f-far… away…" I kept mumbling that over and over while the nurses carried me out of the office. They took me back to my room while Doctor Lacrimat shook his head, saying, "So young, Rebecca; so very young."

Author's Note

I haven't decided if I'm going to expand this... it's been sitting idle for... over a year. If you like it, let me know; if I'm encourged enough, I'll probably expanded it, clean it up, etc.

Reviews

[Ayza Soza]

i remember this story. i remember the day we auditioned for that class... you got in, i didn't. *grumble* :P

any who, if you could find a way to expand it, i say go for it. I'm a fan of back story with writing... or just about anything for that matter, so i would love to learn what happened that caused her mom to be in a coma, what kind of relationship she had with her mother, etc. it could be a good psychological piece if extended.... maybe.

enjoyed it.

p.s.: we need to start writing again :P