A Reflection Of A Strong Female Voice

The light was as bright as the sun and I could feel my retinas burning. In the back i could hear a slight beeping sound almost like it was graphing my heart beat. I heard voices, “Scalpel.” “I’m going to make the first incision now....” And then nothing, the voices stopped and i was back in my own head. I was startled by a falling sensation, as i was thrown into an even colder room. The light in here was dimmer, but it was still blinding. I crawled over to giant metal door and punched it and screamed for them to let me out. I needed to finish my work, my whole reputation depended on it. In a few

You felt your knee raise itself unconsciously as it climbed onto the window sill, you leaned outward. It was like breathing in clarity, like everything became so clear to you: you were on the third floor of some rotten hotel about to kill yourself. You needed to make this count. You felt you stomach rage uncertainly, beckoning the question on whether or not you wanted this. You inwardly told your body sorry for wasting it. You hoped your body could be still put up for organ harvesting for those who needed it. You were sorry to the organs who wouldn't get that

I could feel the breeze skim through my hair as my loose shirt caught the brisk air behind me. This was my sanctuary, the feeling was bliss. I made my way home, bracing myself for the approaching argument I was about to have with my mother. That feeling of pleasure left my body as quickly as it arrived. I stepped into the front door, and closed it behind me as quietly as I could, maybe she wouldn't notice I was late home. But before I could even take the first few steps inside, I heard mum coming from the kitchen,

My legs are shaking with pain, but I need to know where I am and what strange things lie outside of that door way. Slowly I am making my way there, I hear people having a conversation just outside. I haven’t a clue what they are saying, it seems to be in some odd language. Finally I’m at the door. Terrified, I grab the knob and start to open it. It squeaks when I swing it open. In the hall I see no one, just white walls with white tile. “What the,” I say to out loud. I could have sworn I heard someone. My eye catches my room number, 387, it has my name on it. I look right and left, but see nothing expect florescent lighting and shut doors. I go to the door across from mine and try to open it. Locked, that’s odd. I try the next one, locked once again. I keep going, now at room 365 I give the knob a turn and it actually comes open. I hesitantly wander into the area. It looks the same as mine, minus the painting on one of the walls. It is an extremely abnormal painting. It depicts an out of the ordinary creature. “Why would this be in a hospital?” I whisper to myself.

The waiting room attendant immediately brought me back to a room. As I laid in the hospital bed, I felt a calm wave come over me, as I thought this meant my pain was about to be extinguished; I thought too

The rooms were confined to themselves by a large metal door with a small slot about 5 feet from the floor that could only be opened from the outside. The walls were once a brilliant white, but now filled with the scratch marks and blood stains from the ones before me. The room stench of urine, most likely from the other patients. All there was in the room was a small cot with a mattress so thin, it almost looked as if it was a thin piece of plywood. As I laid there strapped to my bed by leather restraints that were made to “protect” me from myself, I kept pondering on the question “what did I do to deserve to be locked up in a place like this?” Then I remember my crime, and smile.

“Madeline,” I hear through my endless solitude. It was quiet enough that I could have imagined it. I must have wanted to hear it so bad that I thought it was there. Thwarted by my realization, I close my eyes and try to fall asleep. “Madeline” it says again. I open my eyes to find that same sunny ceiling, in an entirely empty room. “Madeline.” It

I am now forced to lie awake, alone and scared, too afraid to sleep, while horrific images intrude my mind, disturbing what little sanity I have left. I feel that I am losing my mind; I am losing control over my body, my thoughts and actions. When I look at my hands, I do not see the once soft, white skin of a noble woman, but the blood-stained hands of a cold blooded killer. I do not know how long I can carry on. Sooner or later I feel that I will snap. Like a rope stretched so tight, its frayed and withered thread cannot bear the stress any longer. My body, seemingly fine, will soon resemble my broken and corrupted mind, as I lie, motionless, on the remorseless earth below. Finally I will find the peace that has escaped me, finally I will not be confined within a mind that has long surrendered all logic, reason and clarity, and will finally be free.

I could feel a thin sheet of fabric on top of my weak body. As I regain my conscious, I could hear repetitive beeps next to me. I turn to my left to see a heart monitor. I could see each vibrant green line waving up and down. I was in a room of white. A white blanket, white furnishings, white walls, and white marble floors. When the realization that I was in a hospital, I begin to panic. Where is my family? Where am I? How long have I been out? Just as I was going to try to move out of the bed, an outburst of doors flew open and a nurse in white walked

I think i found my destination. Sheer magnitude of energy arose from my body. I felt unreal. Seriously. Have you ever stop and question your existence. Who am i and why am i here? Detachment and utter numbness of “reality”. This anomalous out-of-body experience rush must means this is the end me? “ Mike i have to go to the hospital i think i'm dying.” I said panicking at my inner experience. I was an onlooker of this universe - at least it seemed. “ Brenda please relax, youre not dying. and stop crying!” he said as he walked me to his car. “ come on, I am going to take you to my house.” . From this moment i knew this isn't what i wanted to

A family sits by their loved one in the last hours of his life, supporting him in his time of need. He has resided in a long-term care facility for the past two years. As his organs slowly shut down, his body succumbs to immense pain. He is sweaty, his brow is furrowed, and each time he is touched to be cared for he moans. The morphine doses prescribed to handle his pain are no longer effective.

The brain-dead seldom seem like they’re dead. The rise and fall of their chests is so convincing, the ventilator seems like an ornament rather than the single source of oxygen that keeps their hearts beating. Their skin is warm to the touch, and condensation clings to the inside of the catheter from the fresh streams of body-temperature urine. Despite how peaceful they look, their bodies are undergoing progressive autolysis, utter and massive self-destruction. Without the helm of consciousness, my father and all of the patients in his section of the intensive care unit seemed adrift in a tiny boat on a wild, infinite sea – yet unconcerned about finding their way back to

The diction used in this quote strongly assists in making the voice sound like a teen girl’s. By using slang words such as "geek" and "hip," the author fabricates the idea that the narrator is a young person, educated but not highly sophisticated. Additionally, the author successfully reveals several personality traits of the narrator without coming right out and stating it. The quote portrays the narrator, Melinda, as slightly shallow or vain, concerned with the "acceptable fashion" and scared to do something she thinks could be interpreted as uncool. The author also shows that Melinda isn't very sociable or good at making friends. She is all alone, looking for either "a friendly face or an inconspicuous corner," indicating that if there isn't

Confused, shocked and fear filled my mind as I lye on my side, gasping for air, trying desperately to stagger onto my knees. A sharp pain suddenly ran up my spine into my forehead and quickly I collapsed back onto the cold damp floor inside this mangled metal coffin in which I was trapped in. Bit by bit I moved my hand closer to my forehead, trying to impede this massive throbbing that was affecting my head. I skimmed my forehead and paused my hand on a huge gash. The pain shot into my head again, but I was able to clutch on to the seat and hold my balance. There was blood pouring down the side

It started with a chill, each vertebrae vibrating one by one up my spine. Then the heat, my face flush and palms clammy. I could never keep up with my breathing, for it seemed as though each time I breathed out, I needed more air almost immediately. Soon, my mind was flooded with unsettling images, a new one appearing nearly every second, each worse than the last. Everything that I found comfort in was now an enemy. When will this end? My body could not keep up with the trembles and I could not resist the urge to scream. Was this room always so small? My eyes grew indecisive, darting across the room, until the capillaries within them bulged so greatly that I clenched my eyelids shut. Then, a long, deep breath.