I watched silently as all the street lights outside my window passed by in a flurry, almost hypnotic enough to put me in a trance or back to sleep, but my nerves kicked in. I tried to keep calm and not pay any attention to the butterflies that gathered in my stomach.

I couldn’t help but think about my life and all that is likely to change: no more sitting on the sidelines watching others cross the finish line, no more frequent visits to the hospital in fear that this particular attack may be my last and most of all, no more being the victim, too sick, too weak to do anything about her situation in life. I definitely will not miss the worried looks I got and feeling completely useless. I’ll be who I was meant to be from the start without this crutch.

A normal teenager, at last.

Dad drops mom and I off at the entrance to park the Suburban and we are greeted by Marcy, the unusually peppy receptionist despite her glum surroundings. Marcy escorted me to the changing room and gave me a box to put all my effects in exchange for that paper-thin gown that will do absolutely nothing to shield you and your backside from the cold. I will say, the doctors made a definite upgrade from those material gowns they provided all the patients a few years back. I used to think the doctors would purposefully order them two sizes too small for their own amusement.

They did a few diagnostic tests to make sure that I was healthy for the operation and I waited on the gurney. I tried not to feel scared but I cannot fool myself as easily as I've convinced other people in the past. Luckily, I did not have to wait long as I saw a familiar face headed my way.

“Hello, Mitzy.” His father-like voice was always comforting.

“Hi Dr. Christiansen.” My voice sounded just as jittery as I felt.

“How are you feeling now that your big day has finally arrived.”

‘Fine,’ I answer, as Dr. Christiansen pushed the gurney towards the operating room but in all honestly, I had no idea what to feel – nervous, yes, scared, a little - and then he was joined by his other colleagues along the way to the OR. I just stared up at the ceiling until I was under a barrage of lights and the doctors' faces were in front of me once again.

“Now, just relax and I am going to give you a general anesthetic and I want you to count backwards from 10. Can you do that for me?”

I nod complying with his request:

“10.”

His cheerful demeanor bothered me time time for some reason, especially when I think about the complex and critical procedure I’m about to get.

“9.”

Anything could go wrong: a drop in blood pressure, not waking up, leaving a scissors in my open chest – I read how forgotten surgical equipment is not as uncommon as you’d hope - as well as other complications.

“8.”

God, when is this stuff going to kick in?!

“7.”

This is a nice way to start…off …th-

** ∞ * ∞ * ∞ **

Beeep          Beeep            Beeep

I groaned as I tried to move but felt so sore…almost like someone hit me with a truck. It felt as though my chest was constricted and kept my breath shallow. I slit my eyes open only to have it assaulted by the mild light that seeped through but it was enough to make me regret trying to open them in the first place. I looked around and saw my mom sat at the foot of my bed, asleep in a chair.

The electrocardiogram monitor, the source of the beeps, spiked up into a peak every two seconds. At least I’m stable. I tried to shift once again but a sharp pain shot up my chest and I hissed at the shock. Mom started to stir and must’ve heard me as she turned to look at me.

“Hey, hon. You’re awake.” She says groggily as she wiped away the sleep from her eyes and smiled at me. I miss the way how that smile used to make me feel when I was a child; safe, as it does at this moment.

I tried to do the same but as usual, I failed miserably, more so now that I’m literally frozen in pain.

“Dr. Christiansen said that you’ll be healed in a few weeks’ time but for now, get some rest. Your father will be back. He just went to go get coffee downstairs but I’ll let him know you’ve woken up. Go back to sleep, hon.”

Mom soothed my hair down on my head and kissed my forehead as she stood up, smiling sweetly. I couldn't help but feel warmed by that smile and I was sure that everything would be alright this time. I closed my eyes and told myself that sleep was good. That’s all I needed and when I wake up, I’ll be in less pain.

** ∞ * ∞ * ∞ **

A bright light shone in my eyes as a loud pulsing noise assaulted my ears. I tried to slam the brakes but it was too late. I could see the container being towed behind the truck and was still in the midst of a wide turn. Everything was going by in slow motion as my car approached the tail end of the trailer.

All I felt was despair build within me as I closed the distance millisecond by millisecond between our two vehicles. The semi-truck driver drowned out all other sounds with the his horn. As I impacted with the trailer, I watched in morbid fascination as the metal frame caved in around me and I threw my arms up to shield myself from all the glass shards that flew and gleamed everywhere in a matter of seconds. Everything closed in on me inch by inch and suddenly-

*Gasp*

I opened my eyes and expected to see wrecked metal and my own blood adorn my body as I fanatically looked around to get my bearings. Heart in throat, I couldn't calm down. Instead, I am alone in the darkness and the cold chill from the room seeped down deep into my bones. I shivered uncontrollably – whether it’s from the dream or the temperature, I’m not sure - but I tried to regain my sense of where I was and separate dream from reality. One thought kept on echoing in my mind even as I closed my eyes to rid myself of the bloody images the dreamworld presented to me:

“What happened to her?”

** ∞ * ∞ * ∞ **

The healing process was slow going and I’ve had that terrifying dream almost every night for the past couple of days. I didn’t quite know what to make of it and though I've not done any of those things depicted in my dreams, they were as vivid as a fond memory. The places I saw in the dreamworld, the people I met, were all familiar. Though I have no clue who they may be, where this all these events took place and what was going on, deep down in my gut, I’ve seen and done it all before.

At one point, I contemplated whether or not I was schizophrenic because of her – the girl whose eyes I’m always looking through in my dreams – her strong presence always lingered in my mind long after I woke up. I made it a point to ask Dr. Christiansen whether or not dreams of strange and unusual people and events were a common side effect of the operation, but he must have thought I was joking and had a rather good chuckle at my expense for seeking the ‘truth.’ I was sincere when I asked him about what I experienced.

I can see from his personal perspective where he would find amusement in a girl doped up on morphine asking about “voices” and “seeing things she’s never seen in her life” can seem odd. If I were him, guess I’d probably laugh at my off-the-wall-questions as well. Especially if I happened to provide the only amusing conversation when everyone around him is sick, dying, and wanted answers like “when will I be better again, doc?” or “how long will I have?” I probably needed to approach him about this from a different angle and at a later point in time since it seemed her voice nagged me in the back of my mind not to forget her.

Honestly, how can I?

Every time I had a dream with the mystery girl, the scenery changed and I got the strong impress she definitely has a yen for living life to its fullest. She didn't want to be forgotten so YOLO – you only live once – seems to be her motto. She was doing something new and adventurous in every single dream. From what I could tell, she was a bit headstrong – and that’s putting it mildly.

One thing I could tell from the beginning was how she was truly free around music; hence, why she loved going to clubs and parties. The mystery girl seemed to put herself in situations where she felt like she had to take total control of her surroundings or she needed to prove herself on ever occasion. She liked causing mischief because she can and almost prided herself at knowing that a difficult situation was under her thumb or would be soon enough.

One time she went into a dark alley on purpose to add a bit of thrill into her night after partying. When it seemed like someone was going to jump her, she remained calm, cool, and collected and took care of the menace as though it were all part of a script or a movie in her head.

Needless to say, the poor unsuspecting person didn’t know what was coming to him and he got what he would have deserved had she not intentionally sought him out. One thing I remembered vividly was the look she had in her eye. Not the coy-come-hither look she was usually known for. No, the don’t-fuck-with-me-if-you-know-what’s-good-for-you gleam in her eye when she was ‘on the prowl’ - as I like to call it - or angered during a heated confrontation. Her confidence, that in-your-face brazenness that she concealed or exuded when she saw fit, at the flip of a switch - both scared and enthralled me.

I had so many questions about this girl and a need to find the reasons as to why I saw these flashes.

If I can only find out a bit more about her.