Bleep.... Bleep.... Bleep..... I heard a monitor beeping steadily. Drip.... Drip.... Drip.... Something liquid drips a half a second after each bleep. It creates a sort of beautiful rhythm. I lay for a minute enjoying the beat. Then coming to my sense my mind starts to wander. Where was I? Where was the rhythm coming from? I try to open my eyes. Nothing happens. Why aren’t they opening? I attempt to scream but it has a similar effect; nothing. I try to kick my legs, but stillness is the only response.
I let myself relax accepting my temporary defeat. Feeling a cloudy haze come over me, I fall back asleep. When morning greeted me, I tried moving my body again. Failure was my only companion. My mind begins to roam; wondering why moving was so inconceivable. Than to my delight, I hear a door open and voices began speaking.
“Ma’am, we’ve been running tests all week, and her brain activity is rather limited...” A smooth and confident voice my brain didn’t recognize ventured on with a slur of medical terms, which were beyond my comprehension. Someone begins to cry. The woman chokes out horrible, heart wrenching sobs.
“Doctor,” Panic spread through me as my mind realized who the voice belonged to. It was my mother. It was her who was crying. “Can she hear me?”
Were they talking about me? Was there anyone else in the room? I couldn’t open my eyes to find out.
“Boleyn?” Yeah. It was definitely my mother. She’s the only one who calls me Boleyn. Everyone else just calls me Lynnie. But my mom is obsessed with King Henry VIII and so I was named after his second wife, Anne Boleyn. “Are you in there? Can you hear me?” My mom sounds so desperate and broken that my own heart rips into fragments. My compulsion to reach out and comfort her is overwhelming.
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