Under Deconstruction

The walls are building themselves again.

Vulnerability, loneliness, and stupidity, allowed entrance into my safe haven.

Though I’ve been known for carless decisions that cause me great pain,

I was only searching for your seemingly solid foundation

On which my walls could surround and enclose.

Your sweet phrases filled my empty fortress,

Even when my words allowed my framework to be exposed,

You beautifully displayed my twisted self-portraits.

You guided the construction

While I pained the interior in all my favorite colors.

But you didn’t realize the power of my self-destruction,

And that I had locks for all the doors and shutters.

My home is where my heart is,

And brick and mortar have started their foundation around my pieced together heart.

I cannot let you live where my misery is.

I know the mortar is strong enough now to keep us apart.

I am the architect of my own penitentiary,

I won’t let the walls stand for anyone but me.

She is a force of nature.

A mythical, wonderful creature.

As beautiful as the setting sun.

She warns of the tides that control her.

Her sky will always grow dark when the day is done.

The power of her natural self-destruction,

Will make waves in good natured still water.

The moon is her mother,

The sun is her father.

She will sound the alarm,

For she means no harm,

She will hold back her cloudy skies with all her might.

But the pressure in her atmosphere will only prolong,

A storm that will break parts of her; and take away her will to fight.

Yet, the beauty of the storm comes the next day,

When the sun rises again, shining beautiful and bright,

She will open her eyes, no matter the color of the skies.

Forces of nature, have no choice but to awaken at each day’s light.

#poetry

A woman with a bone structure of a Goddess strode into the room. She was beautiful, tall, and shapely. Her eyes were turquoise blue, and they enchanted me. They were my favorite color. They were her real eyes, I could tell.

She called off the men in the olive drab suits with a brisk nod, and they scampered away with their tail between their legs. She eyed me, a look of indifference on her face, as she seemed to asses me. My eyes felt heavy, my body felt as if my veins had been filled with concrete. My scalp felt greasy, and my face felt masked with dried tears and sweat. My body trembled as I tried to make myself stand up tall, only to collapse onto the chair that was right beside the bed.

“Would you like a glass of water?”

“Who are you, where am I?” is all I could manage, my voice horse and barely audible.

She nodded almost imperceptibly, and perched upon the bed, facing the window. It was only now that I began to take in the room. It was like a bedroom, a dresser, night tables, a bed, two large armchairs, a wooden chair by a large armoire. Yet it felt clinical. The bed itself was not your average bed. It appeared to be a hospital bed, with wheels, and railings that could be adjusted in different ways. There were straps connected to the bedframe, dangling down to the floor.

My confusion and fear began to mount, as I realized that I was unaware not only of where I was, but who I was. A wave of hot fear washed over me, my heart skipping a beat. I could feel my forehead start to perspire, and I felt my pulse and my breathing quicken. I stopped and tried to think. Tried to breathe. My mind was racing. I knew I was me, but who was I? Do I live here? Is this an asylum? I knew that wasn’t right. I may not remember who I was or where I came from, but I knew that it was not here.

As if reading my thoughts, the woman turned to look at me, now with a look of sympathy on her face.

“This is all a lot to take in. I know, I can imagine. You have been injected with several sedatives, and a few other chemicals, some of which have caused you a semi-temporary case of amnesia. If you knew what was at stake, what I do… Well, we will get to that later. For now, all you need to know is that you must stay in this room for now.”

“Why am I here?” I croaked, trying to keep my voice calm and even.

“Let’s take this one step at a time. You look awful, you look like you need to rest. We will get you cleaned up, and I will return when you are well.” She said this evenly and curtly, not missing a beat.

She stood and walked briskly to the door. She let herself out without another word.

I started to pace, back and forth, feeling unsteady. I walked into the bathroom that was attached to the room. It was equipped with a clawfoot tub, large and deep, a toilet, and a small vanity with a porcelain sink. The mirror was small, just large enough for me to see down to my collarbone. My hair, a fierce dark brown color, was matted and lank. My eyes were bright, and they seemed to leer back at me, a brilliant jade color, with rings of gold surrounding my pupils. I drew my face closer to the mirror to peer into my eyes. The gold rings made my eyes look as if they were bright sunflowers, in a fresh green field.

These features were familiar, yet meaningless. They gave me no clues as to my origin or my name.

I was extracted from my racing thoughts by the sound of a keycard registering at the door. It sounded like a card one would use to unlock a hotel room. I walked cautiously out of the bathroom, feeling my fear and confusion pulse through my body. A small woman dressed in scrubs was standing holding a tray. The tray offered no more than a piece of toast and a carton of milk.

“Eat up, you’re going to need your strength, Miss,” the woman said, not quite meeting my eye.

“For what?” I replied groggily.

She just nodded in reply, as she walked towards the door. She used a small green card to unlock the door, and quickly closed it behind her.

I began to pace again, feeling like a caged lion. My stomach was churning. What kind of person locks someone up in a cage? My heart felt as if it were breaking from fear and loneliness.

As I paced, I heard the key card again. The door opened, and a man dressed in a suit and tie, wearing a lab coat, and had the build and haircut of a military man entered the room. I noted that he was wearing dog tags and walked with a slight limp. He walked to the table situated in between the window and the bed. He gestured for me to join him.

I sat, and he handed me a file folder.

“This is everything you need to know about… well, you.”

I opened the folder; “Annika Daniels. Age 24.”

In the folder were pictures. One of me, and one appearing to be a family photo, with me standing next to a tall man with a dark beard and a camouflage hat, and a big sturdy build, looking to be in his fifties. I recognized him immediately as my dad. Next to him was my mother, short, slightly plump, with blonde curly hair and bright blue eyes.

The photos started to bring back some pieces of my life, bit by bit.

He took the folder from me; “Let’s take this slow. My name is Dr. Andrew Morgan.”

He held out his hand, and I shook it, as my brain was very much preoccupied with images and memories seeming to literally flash before my eyes. I felt the fight draining from me. The general emotion I was struck with was longing, driven by pain. It all came rushing back; Mom sick, Dad sick, Grandparents sick. Images of them laying on cots, IV lines trailing to bags of fluid. A deadly illness was striking down people across the country. My eyes welled with tears and I wanted to lash out.

Dr. Morgan handed me a tissue. I dabbed at my eyes trying to remember if my family was alive or dead. My name is Annika. The circuit board of my brain was lighting up at a rapid rate, with memories, information, names, faces, and images. I started to shiver and shake. Dr. Morgan grabbed the blanket he had brought into the room along with the briefcase he carried, and wrapped it around me.

“Don’t cry. We can try and make this okay still. But you’re our only hope.”

I looked up at him through my tear streaked eyes. The shaking got worse. An overwhelming feeling of dread enveloped me. I didn’t think my family was dead, but I did think that they were very ill.

“Where is my family?” I sputtered, not making eye contact with him.

“They are in quarantine. That’s where everyone who has encountered this sickness is. That’s where you were, however you have caught the attention of some very smart, very powerful people. We think you have the cure to this illness.”

“Me? Why would I have the cure?”

“Your lab work brought back some interesting results. We have studied your blood, and you seem to carry an unknown type of antibodies in your blood. Not only that, but while we had you sedated, we did some other tests. We have found a certain type of stem cell in your body, that if harvested on a massive level, we could develop a treatment for this illness on a large scale, potentially treating, and curing many people in quarantine who have now been given a death sentence,” he said this calmly, and all I could do was stare at him blankly.

“The stem cells found in your brain and bone marrow are unique-they behave in a way we’ve never seen before. The disease plaguing the people acts just like spinal meningitis, the symptoms are imitations of a flu virus at first, then it attacks nerves, neurons, and parts of the brain start to degenerate. We took samples of your bone marrow stem cells, which are functioning in the same peculiar pattern as the ones we have seen in your brain when we scanned it.”

“Why would you even be running tests on me?”

“The mandatory labs and samples taken from everyone when they first arrived and checked into quarantine brought back unique results for you and you alone. You’ve had exposure to the illness which spreads and is contagious like a virus. All the others are sick, you have shown no symptoms. You were quarantined with the certainty you would too be showing signs of this illness due to the amount and length of exposure you have had. We sedated you several nights ago and brought you in for testing. Please understand-we have taken extreme measures-this is a very widespread epidemic, over ten thousand people have died already. We had to proceed quickly, and it was easier to do the testing without your knowledge and causing any further stress on your brain and body. It was for the best.”

“Do my parents know where I am?”

“Your father, yes. Your mother has been placed in a medically induced coma. Her brain was swelling and deteriorating rapidly. We had to limit as much electrical activity as possible. This, in part is why we acted the way we did.”

Tears welled, stinging my eyes. This was all so surreal. I felt the ache in my heart grow.

“I can’t imagine that what I have just told you is easy to hear, however we need to move quickly. Not just to try and generate a cure and save lives, but because if you are to make this sacrifice, it could help your own family. I suspect that will be the primary motivator behind your decision-I know it would be if I were in your shoes. If we have any chance of saving your mother, we don’t have much time.”

“What exactly are my choices? You say decision like I have options, yet you’ve brought me here without my consent, and I’m being held hostage.”

“Before I explain any further I need to meet with my colleagues, and maybe bring someone else in to help me lay out the options, and the logistics of what needs to be done. I’m going to leave you to digest everything I’ve just told you, and I will meet with my team. We can reconvene in another hour or so. Until then, rest. Your body is exhausted, and you’re probably in a state of shock. Fighting the reality of your situation will only make things worse, so please, take it easy. Lay down and rest until I get back.”

He got up and gathered the folder and his briefcase out of the room. He removed his key card and left the room. I felt paralyzed.

I sat in the chair, motionless. My thoughts were racing, but I couldn’t think at all. The walls seemed to be closing in. A strange calm fell over my body, making me feel numb. The silence of the room was screaming at me, activating the fight or flight area of my brain, yet I felt my body anchor itself to my chair in response. Tears streamed down my face.

I sat rooted to the chair, for what could have been any length of time, but it felt like a lifetime and a millisecond all at once. I heard the key activate the door, and still I could not move.

Three people came into the room, first, Dr. Andrew Morgan with his briefcase. The Goddess came in second, and another man following her. This man was small statured, with a round, bald head, and large green eyes behind a pair of round glasses. He carried a folder thick with paper in one hand.

“Annika. I want you to meet Gregory Carroll. He is the head scientist at the CDC, and has been the head of the research team that was assembled at the onset of this disease. I have brought him in, so he can explain to you our situation,” Dr. Morgan said by way of introduction.

“Hello Annika,” Mr. Carroll said.

I tried to speak, but words would not come, so I nodded in response. Without preamble, Mr. Carroll set down the folder and pulled out the relevant papers. He spread them out in front of me. I took my time, and looked over each one, trying to take it all in. After I had carefully examined each piece of paper, I looked up at him, and nodded once again.

“I need you to verbally agree that you are listening to this explanation and you are doing so of your own free will,” The Goddess said.

“Yes, I agree, I want to hear what he wants to tell me,” I said hoarsely.

The Goddess nodded to Mr. Carroll, signaling for him to start. I took in a deep breath and braced myself.

“Normally, the stem cells in the human brain are influenced by progenitor cells. These are cells that behave like stem cells, but they are specialized cells, basically only differentiating into a target cell. In a normal human brain, there is are large number of stem cells. Even when harvested, stem cells that come from the brain replicate only a limited number of times, and they cannot be reinjected back into any brain and behave as stem cells. The cells we have found in your brain behave in a very different manner. There is almost double the amount of stem cells in your brain, and behave just as the ones found in your bone marrow. They are stem cells we could extract from your brain, on a large scale, and get an immunization created from those cells within twenty-four hours. We could then go on to run a live human trial, and see how they are received. According to the research we have gathered from this illness, we are 75% sure that treating with the stem cells found in your body would lead to a complete recovery. The stem cells in your bone marrow we could draw directly from your hip. You would be given a spinal epidural, and we could extract directly from your bone. This is a very low risk procedure, and would be our first choice. However, the time it would take for us to grow and produced the amount needed to make a single vaccination, in our lab, would take up to several weeks. This is time we just do not have. The ones in your brain are reproducing at a faster rate than the ones in your marrow, and there is a larger amount we could extract. If we could make one vaccine, we could run the trial, and by the time that trial has produced an outcome, we could have the vaccine made on a large scale, and go back in to extract more stem cells if the need arises. At this point I can’t say for sure how the stem cells will behave once outside your brain-this is all unchartered territory for us. This is where it gets difficult.”

He looked at me, his eyes radiating guilt and sorrow. My mouth was bone dry, I couldn’t respond. I could only look at him, my face feeling numb, my body weighted down.

“The current count of the sick is at 2.6 million around the world. This illness is certain death for them unless they’re cured. However, this comes at high cost, because we must ask for you to give us consent to harvest a portion of your brain. We don’t know what the outcome will be for you for certain. Since the stem cells take up such a large portion, we may be able to extract what is needed on a large scale with minimal tissue damage. However, due to the positioning of the cells, your nervous system may be affected. This could cause paralysis to any degree, or none at all. It could also affect your glutamatergic and dopaminergic inputs. These areas affect your planning and decision making, motivation, and reinforcement and reward perception. Unfortunately, we can’t give you any guaranteed outcomes on any of this. The extent of the damage, if there is any, could be on any scale. This is the sacrifice that would need to be made. You would have to acknowledge that the outcome for you is unknown, and allow us to do this. We would need to start today.”

I blinked. I had no idea how to respond. The terror of going into a brain operation, not knowing if I would ever come out of the operation dead or alive, felt like a joke. What right did they have? How could they ask me to make this choice? I didn’t want to die. I wasn’t even done with college yet. I wasn’t married, I had no children. I haven’t even gotten to experience life yet.

The Goddess had tears welling in her eyes. She looked at me, pain obvious on her face. “Annika, please. Consider your family. Your mother is dying. The rest of your family isn’t far behind. The disease has spread, so fast, that you are truly our only hope. You are the only one who we know could be helpful in treatment at this point. If I could trade places with you I would. I would do it to save you the pain. But I am unable, so I am here, begging you. Without you, the entire human race could expire before an alternative option is found.”

At that moment I heard a card activate the door. A man dressed in army fatigues wheeled in a sickly-looking man in a wheelchair. It took me several moments to register that the man was my father. His dark hair thin, his once thick, darkly tanned arms looking to be nothing but skin and bone. His eyes were dull, dark circles encompassing them.

The effect was my paralysis was lifted. I sprung out of my chair and stumbled over to him, kneeling in front of his wheel chair.

“Oh Annika… I… My baby…” he whispered, tears streaming from his eyes.

“Your father wanted to speak with you before you decided,” said The Goddess.

“Annika,” he said, grasping my hand in his, “I know what they’re asking of you. I know what the cost would be. I know the odds, they have explained everything to me as they have to you. I just… I just wanted you to know that whatever it is you decide, I honor and respect it. I don’t expect you to give your life. No one would blame you if you did not. I… I…” he omitted a loud, sorrowful sob.

I lay my head in my father’s lap, and we wept.

Moments passed, and I cried until I felt I had no tears left in my body.

“Daddy… I’m scared…”

“I know honey I am terrified. I will stand by you in whatever you decide to do. If they do the operation, I will not leave your side until you wake up again. I love you with my entire heart and soul. You have always been a strong child, you were always so wise beyond your years. You have taken that old wisdom and changed lives in twenty-four short years. You do so much good, you love with all your might. You amaze me every day. Whatever you choose, will be the right choice.”

“I’ve already decided Daddy,” I say looking from him then over to the woman and two doctors standing nearby, “I’m going to do it. All that I ask, is that you stay with me, and that I can see Mom before I go.”

Tears filled the eyes of everyone standing in the room. My father smoothed my matted hair out of my face. I lay my head on his lap again as he stroked my hair, tears still streaming from his eyes.

Clearing her throat and wiping her eyes, The Goddess grabbed a piece of paper and held it out to me. I sat up and read over what it said.

“This is the form you will need to sign, giving us consent to do the surgery and stating that you are aware of the risks involved with the procedures. We need this signature, and I will personally take you to see your mother before we operate. We need to act immediately if this is truly what you want,” she explained.

I signed the form, and another wheel chair was brought over to me. I felt too tired to demand that I could walk, I still had the ability after all. For now, at least. I got up off the floor and sat down in the chair, pushing away any offered help. The woman moved behind me and a guard unlocked the door. They pushed my father and I down the hall in silence. At the end of the long hallway, they turned and opened the first door on the left with a code.

They wheeled us into the room, my father, then myself, and brought us to rest beside the third bed in a line of at least a dozen. There my mother lay, looking as thin and frail as my father. Monitors beeped, and fluids pumped into her arm at a steady rate. She looked so peaceful, but she didn’t look like my mother. Another sob rose in my throat as I stood beside the bed, and cried what was left of my tears.

Eventually someone grasped my arm and told me it was time to leave. I said my goodbyes to my mother, and returned to my wheelchair. We returned to the same hall, but instead of returning to the room I awoke in, we turned right at the opposite end of the hallway.

A set of double doors ushered us into a large operating theater. The guard wheeled me over to the bed and set the brakes.

“Would you like a minute alone with your father?” asked The Goddess.

“No just bring him here,” I replied.

They wheeled my father over to the bed. His eyes no longer looked dull. They were bright with tears and pain and fear, all radiating with an intensity I had never before known.

“Annika…” he started, choking on his words.

“Daddy, don’t say anything. This is the right thing to do. This is what must be done, and you and Mom raised me to do what is right. My life is not more valuable than the lives of millions. This is a small sacrifice in comparison to what the outcome can be. I have made the right choice, you don’t need to waste your energy on telling me so. No matter the outcome, I want you and mom to know that I love you both, with all my heart. No matter what, you have always done your best by me. I am so grateful for all that you’ve given me. And if my life ends today, know that I have lived a full and happy one, thanks to you and mom. If I don’t make it, I want you to continue to live. Don’t mourn me. Celebrate and honor what I am sacrificing by doing your best by me. Live like you’ve gotten a second chance, not like you’ve lost me.”

“I love you sweetheart,” is all my father could manage through his sobs.

“I love you too daddy.”

I got up, and walked myself to the operating table. They adjusted it into the sitting position, and strapped me down. I was surrounded by men in green scrubs, masks and hats covering their faces and heads. A mask was placed over my mouth, and the room slowly went black, my father’s hand, tightly grasping mine.

***

A woman with a bone structure of a Goddess strode into the room. She was beautiful, tall, and shapely. Her eyes were turquoise blue, and they enchanted me. They were my favorite color. They were her true eyes, I could tell. She called off the men in the olive drab suits with a brisk nod, and they scampered away with their tail between their legs.

She eyed me, tears illuminating her beautiful blue eyes. She seemed to float to my bed, sunshine radiating around her like she was truly a heavenly creature. She stood above me, and grasped my hand.

“Can you wiggle your toes and fingers for me dear?” she asked softly.

My brain struggled to understand at first, and then when I made the effort to do as she asked, I could feel my body strain to do what should have taken no effort. A tingling sensation crawled up my arms and my pointer finger twitched. My body continued to strain, trying to grasp any feeling in my legs, yet there was nothing. Tears streamed down my face, but were quickly brushed away by a gentle hand whose owner I could not see.

The goddess stepped aside, and a woman who was small and frail looking, standing beside a man who looked just as ill, smiled down at me, tears streaking their faces. They stood above me, their familiarity coming slowly to me, as I felt the love radiate over me, seeming to seep from their smiles to my entire body.

“Your name is Annika,” said the woman, “you are 24 years old. You just saved millions of lives, because you are a brave, kind, wise little girl, and I am blessed and honored, to call you my daughter.”

A woman with a bone structure of a Goddess strode into the room. She was beautiful, tall, and shapely. Her eyes were turquoise blue, and they enchanted me. They were my favorite color. They were her real eyes, I could tell.

She called off the men in the olive drab suits with a brisk nod, and they scampered away with their tail between their legs. She eyed me, a look of indifference on her face, as she seemed to asses me. My eyes felt heavy, my body felt as if my veins had been filled with concrete. My scalp felt greasy, and my face felt masked with dried tears and sweat. My body trembled as I tried to make myself stand up tall, only to collapse onto the chair that was right beside the bed.

“Would you like a glass of water?”

“Who are you, where am I?” is all I could manage, my voice horse and barely audible.

She nodded almost imperceptibly, and perched upon the bed, facing the window. It was only now that I began to take in the room. It was like a bedroom, a dresser, night tables, a bed, two large armchairs, a wooden chair by a large armoire. Yet it felt clinical. The bed itself was not your average bed. It appeared to be a hospital bed, with wheels, and railings that could be adjusted in different ways. There were straps connected to the bedframe, dangling down to the floor.

My confusion and fear began to mount, as I realized that I was unaware not only of where I was, but who I was. A wave of hot fear washed over me, my heart skipping a beat. I could feel my forehead start to perspire, and I felt my pulse and my breathing quicken. I stopped and tried to think. Tried to breathe. My mind was racing. I knew I was me, but who was I? Do I live here? Is this an asylum? I knew that wasn’t right. I may not remember who I was or where I came from, but I knew that it was not here.

As if reading my thoughts, the woman turned to look at me, now with a look of sympathy on her face.

“This is all a lot to take in. I know, I can imagine. You have been injected with several sedatives, and a few other chemicals, some of which have caused you a semi-temporary case of amnesia. If you knew what was at stake, what I do… Well, we will get to that later. For now, all you need to know is that you must stay in this room for now.”

“Why am I here?” I croaked, trying to keep my voice calm and even.

“Let’s take this one step at a time. You look awful, you look like you need to rest. We will get you cleaned up, and I will return when you are well.” She said this evenly and curtly, not missing a beat.

She stood and walked briskly to the door. She let herself out without another word.

I started to pace, back and forth, feeling unsteady. I walked into the bathroom that was attached to the room. It was equipped with a clawfoot tub, large and deep, a toilet, and a small vanity with a porcelain sink. The mirror was small, just large enough for me to see down to my collarbone. My hair, a fierce dark brown color, was matted and lank. My eyes were bright, and they seemed to leer back at me, a brilliant jade color, with rings of gold surrounding my pupils. I drew my face closer to the mirror to peer into my eyes. The gold rings made my eyes look as if they were bright sunflowers, in a fresh green field.

These features were familiar, yet meaningless. They gave me no clues as to my origin or my name.

I was extracted from my racing thoughts by the sound of a keycard registering at the door. It sounded like a card one would use to unlock a hotel room. I walked cautiously out of the bathroom, feeling my fear and confusion pulse through my body. A small woman dressed in scrubs was standing holding a tray. The tray offered no more than a piece of toast and a carton of milk.

“Eat up, you’re going to need your strength, Miss,” the woman said, not quite meeting my eye.

“For what?” I replied groggily.

She just nodded in reply, as she walked towards the door. She used a small green card to unlock the door, and quickly closed it behind her.

I began to pace again, feeling like a caged lion. My stomach was churning. What kind of person locks someone up in a cage? My heart felt as if it were breaking from fear and loneliness.

As I paced, I heard the key card again. The door opened, and a man dressed in a suit and tie, wearing a lab coat, and had the build and haircut of a military man entered the room. I noted that he was wearing dog tags and walked with a slight limp. He walked to the table situated in between the window and the bed. He gestured for me to join him.

I sat, and he handed me a file folder.

“This is everything you need to know about… well, you.”

I opened the folder; “Annika Daniels. Age 24.”

In the folder were pictures. One of me, and one appearing to be a family photo, with me standing next to a tall man with a dark beard and a camouflage hat, and a big sturdy build, looking to be in his fifties. I recognized him immediately as my dad. Next to him was my mother, short, slightly plump, with blonde curly hair and bright blue eyes.

The photos started to bring back some pieces of my life, bit by bit.

He took the folder from me; “Let’s take this slow. My name is Dr. Andrew Morgan.”

He held out his hand, and I shook it, as my brain was very much preoccupied with images and memories seeming to literally flash before my eyes. I felt the fight draining from me. The general emotion I was struck with was longing, driven by pain. It all came rushing back; Mom sick, Dad sick, Grandparents sick. Images of them laying on cots, IV lines trailing to bags of fluid. A deadly illness was striking down people across the country. My eyes welled with tears and I wanted to lash out.

Dr. Morgan handed me a tissue. I dabbed at my eyes trying to remember if my family was alive or dead. My name is Annika. The circuit board of my brain was lighting up at a rapid rate, with memories, information, names, faces, and images. I started to shiver and shake. Dr. Morgan grabbed the blanket he had brought into the room along with the briefcase he carried, and wrapped it around me.

“Don’t cry. We can try and make this okay still. But you’re our only hope.”

I looked up at him through my tear streaked eyes. The shaking got worse. An overwhelming feeling of dread enveloped me. I didn’t think my family was dead, but I did think that they were very ill.

“Where is my family?” I sputtered, not making eye contact with him.

“They are in quarantine. That’s where everyone who has encountered this sickness is. That’s where you were, however you have caught the attention of some very smart, very powerful people. We think you have the cure to this illness.”

“Me? Why would I have the cure?”

“Your lab work brought back some interesting results. We have studied your blood, and you seem to carry an unknown type of antibodies in your blood. Not only that, but while we had you sedated, we did some other tests. We have found a certain type of stem cell in your body, that if harvested on a massive level, we could develop a treatment for this illness on a large scale, potentially treating, and curing many people in quarantine who have now been given a death sentence,” he said this calmly, and all I could do was stare at him blankly.

“The stem cells found in your brain and bone marrow are unique-they behave in a way we’ve never seen before. The disease plaguing the people acts just like spinal meningitis, the symptoms are imitations of a flu virus at first, then it attacks nerves, neurons, and parts of the brain start to degenerate. We took samples of your bone marrow stem cells, which are functioning in the same peculiar pattern as the ones we have seen in your brain when we scanned it.”

“Why would you even be running tests on me?”

“The mandatory labs and samples taken from everyone when they first arrived and checked into quarantine brought back unique results for you and you alone. You’ve had exposure to the illness which spreads and is contagious like a virus. All the others are sick, you have shown no symptoms. You were quarantined with the certainty you would too be showing signs of this illness due to the amount and length of exposure you have had. We sedated you several nights ago and brought you in for testing. Please understand-we have taken extreme measures-this is a very widespread epidemic, over ten thousand people have died already. We had to proceed quickly, and it was easier to do the testing without your knowledge and causing any further stress on your brain and body. It was for the best.”

“Do my parents know where I am?”

“Your father, yes. Your mother has been placed in a medically induced coma. Her brain was swelling and deteriorating rapidly. We had to limit as much electrical activity as possible. This, in part is why we acted the way we did.”

Tears welled, stinging my eyes. This was all so surreal. I felt the ache in my heart grow.

“I can’t imagine that what I have just told you is easy to hear, however we need to move quickly. Not just to try and generate a cure and save lives, but because if you are to make this sacrifice, it could help your own family. I suspect that will be the primary motivator behind your decision-I know it would be if I were in your shoes. If we have any chance of saving your mother, we don’t have much time.”

“What exactly are my choices? You say decision like I have options, yet you’ve brought me here without my consent, and I’m being held hostage.”

“Before I explain any further I need to meet with my colleagues, and maybe bring someone else in to help me lay out the options, and the logistics of what needs to be done. I’m going to leave you to digest everything I’ve just told you, and I will meet with my team. We can reconvene in another hour or so. Until then, rest. Your body is exhausted, and you’re probably in a state of shock. Fighting the reality of your situation will only make things worse, so please, take it easy. Lay down and rest until I get back.”

He got up and gathered the folder and his briefcase out of the room. He removed his key card and left the room. I felt paralyzed.

I sat in the chair, motionless. My thoughts were racing, but I couldn’t think at all. The walls seemed to be closing in. A strange calm fell over my body, making me feel numb. The silence of the room was screaming at me, activating the fight or flight area of my brain, yet I felt my body anchor itself to my chair in response. Tears streamed down my face.

I sat rooted to the chair, for what could have been any length of time, but it felt like a lifetime and a millisecond all at once. I heard the key activate the door, and still I could not move.

Three people came into the room, first, Dr. Andrew Morgan with his briefcase. The Goddess came in second, and another man following her. This man was small statured, with a round, bald head, and large green eyes behind a pair of round glasses. He carried a folder thick with paper in one hand.

“Annika. I want you to meet Gregory Carroll. He is the head scientist at the CDC, and has been the head of the research team that was assembled at the onset of this disease. I have brought him in, so he can explain to you our situation,” Dr. Morgan said by way of introduction.

“Hello Annika,” Mr. Carroll said.

I tried to speak, but words would not come, so I nodded in response. Without preamble, Mr. Carroll set down the folder and pulled out the relevant papers. He spread them out in front of me. I took my time, and looked over each one, trying to take it all in. After I had carefully examined each piece of paper, I looked up at him, and nodded once again.

“I need you to verbally agree that you are listening to this explanation and you are doing so of your own free will,” The Goddess said.

“Yes, I agree, I want to hear what he wants to tell me,” I said hoarsely.

The Goddess nodded to Mr. Carroll, signaling for him to start. I took in a deep breath and braced myself.

“Normally, the stem cells in the human brain are influenced by progenitor cells. These are cells that behave like stem cells, but they are specialized cells, basically only differentiating into a target cell. In a normal human brain, there is are large number of stem cells. Even when harvested, stem cells that come from the brain replicate only a limited number of times, and they cannot be reinjected back into any brain and behave as stem cells. The cells we have found in your brain behave in a very different manner. There is almost double the amount of stem cells in your brain, and behave just as the ones found in your bone marrow. They are stem cells we could extract from your brain, on a large scale, and get an immunization created from those cells within twenty-four hours. We could then go on to run a live human trial, and see how they are received. According to the research we have gathered from this illness, we are 75% sure that treating with the stem cells found in your body would lead to a complete recovery. The stem cells in your bone marrow we could draw directly from your hip. You would be given a spinal epidural, and we could extract directly from your bone. This is a very low risk procedure, and would be our first choice. However, the time it would take for us to grow and produced the amount needed to make a single vaccination, in our lab, would take up to several weeks. This is time we just do not have. The ones in your brain are reproducing at a faster rate than the ones in your marrow, and there is a larger amount we could extract. If we could make one vaccine, we could run the trial, and by the time that trial has produced an outcome, we could have the vaccine made on a large scale, and go back in to extract more stem cells if the need arises. At this point I can’t say for sure how the stem cells will behave once outside your brain-this is all unchartered territory for us. This is where it gets difficult.”

He looked at me, his eyes radiating guilt and sorrow. My mouth was bone dry, I couldn’t respond. I could only look at him, my face feeling numb, my body weighted down.

“The current count of the sick is at 2.6 million around the world. This illness is certain death for them unless they’re cured. However, this comes at high cost, because we must ask for you to give us consent to harvest a portion of your brain. We don’t know what the outcome will be for you for certain. Since the stem cells take up such a large portion, we may be able to extract what is needed on a large scale with minimal tissue damage. However, due to the positioning of the cells, your nervous system may be affected. This could cause paralysis to any degree, or none at all. It could also affect your glutamatergic and dopaminergic inputs. These areas affect your planning and decision making, motivation, and reinforcement and reward perception. Unfortunately, we can’t give you any guaranteed outcomes on any of this. The extent of the damage, if there is any, could be on any scale. This is the sacrifice that would need to be made. You would have to acknowledge that the outcome for you is unknown, and allow us to do this. We would need to start today.”

I blinked. I had no idea how to respond. The terror of going into a brain operation, not knowing if I would ever come out of the operation dead or alive, felt like a joke. What right did they have? How could they ask me to make this choice? I didn’t want to die. I wasn’t even done with college yet. I wasn’t married, I had no children. I haven’t even gotten to experience life yet.

The Goddess had tears welling in her eyes. She looked at me, pain obvious on her face. “Annika, please. Consider your family. Your mother is dying. The rest of your family isn’t far behind. The disease has spread, so fast, that you are truly our only hope. You are the only one who we know could be helpful in treatment at this point. If I could trade places with you I would. I would do it to save you the pain. But I am unable, so I am here, begging you. Without you, the entire human race could expire before an alternative option is found.”

At that moment I heard a card activate the door. A man dressed in army fatigues wheeled in a sickly-looking man in a wheelchair. It took me several moments to register that the man was my father. His dark hair thin, his once thick, darkly tanned arms looking to be nothing but skin and bone. His eyes were dull, dark circles encompassing them.

The effect was my paralysis was lifted. I sprung out of my chair and stumbled over to him, kneeling in front of his wheel chair.

“Oh Annika… I… My baby…” he whispered, tears streaming from his eyes.

“Your father wanted to speak with you before you decided,” said The Goddess.

“Annika,” he said, grasping my hand in his, “I know what they’re asking of you. I know what the cost would be. I know the odds, they have explained everything to me as they have to you. I just… I just wanted you to know that whatever it is you decide, I honor and respect it. I don’t expect you to give your life. No one would blame you if you did not. I… I…” he omitted a loud, sorrowful sob.

I lay my head in my father’s lap, and we wept.

Moments passed, and I cried until I felt I had no tears left in my body.

“Daddy… I’m scared…”

“I know honey I am terrified. I will stand by you in whatever you decide to do. If they do the operation, I will not leave your side until you wake up again. I love you with my entire heart and soul. You have always been a strong child, you were always so wise beyond your years. You have taken that old wisdom and changed lives in twenty-four short years. You do so much good, you love with all your might. You amaze me every day. Whatever you choose, will be the right choice.”

“I’ve already decided Daddy,” I say looking from him then over to the woman and two doctors standing nearby, “I’m going to do it. All that I ask, is that you stay with me, and that I can see Mom before I go.”

Tears filled the eyes of everyone standing in the room. My father smoothed my matted hair out of my face. I lay my head on his lap again as he stroked my hair, tears still streaming from his eyes.

Clearing her throat and wiping her eyes, The Goddess grabbed a piece of paper and held it out to me. I sat up and read over what it said.

“This is the form you will need to sign, giving us consent to do the surgery and stating that you are aware of the risks involved with the procedures. We need this signature, and I will personally take you to see your mother before we operate. We need to act immediately if this is truly what you want,” she explained.

I signed the form, and another wheel chair was brought over to me. I felt too tired to demand that I could walk, I still had the ability after all. For now, at least. I got up off the floor and sat down in the chair, pushing away any offered help. The woman moved behind me and a guard unlocked the door. They pushed my father and I down the hall in silence. At the end of the long hallway, they turned and opened the first door on the left with a code.

They wheeled us into the room, my father, then myself, and brought us to rest beside the third bed in a line of at least a dozen. There my mother lay, looking as thin and frail as my father. Monitors beeped, and fluids pumped into her arm at a steady rate. She looked so peaceful, but she didn’t look like my mother. Another sob rose in my throat as I stood beside the bed, and cried what was left of my tears.

Eventually someone grasped my arm and told me it was time to leave. I said my goodbyes to my mother, and returned to my wheelchair. We returned to the same hall, but instead of returning to the room I awoke in, we turned right at the opposite end of the hallway.

A set of double doors ushered us into a large operating theater. The guard wheeled me over to the bed and set the brakes.

“Would you like a minute alone with your father?” asked The Goddess.

“No just bring him here,” I replied.

They wheeled my father over to the bed. His eyes no longer looked dull. They were bright with tears and pain and fear, all radiating with an intensity I had never before known.

“Annika…” he started, choking on his words.

“Daddy, don’t say anything. This is the right thing to do. This is what must be done, and you and Mom raised me to do what is right. My life is not more valuable than the lives of millions. This is a small sacrifice in comparison to what the outcome can be. I have made the right choice, you don’t need to waste your energy on telling me so. No matter the outcome, I want you and mom to know that I love you both, with all my heart. No matter what, you have always done your best by me. I am so grateful for all that you’ve given me. And if my life ends today, know that I have lived a full and happy one, thanks to you and mom. If I don’t make it, I want you to continue to live. Don’t mourn me. Celebrate and honor what I am sacrificing by doing your best by me. Live like you’ve gotten a second chance, not like you’ve lost me.”

“I love you sweetheart,” is all my father could manage through his sobs.

“I love you too daddy.”

I got up, and walked myself to the operating table. They adjusted it into the sitting position, and strapped me down. I was surrounded by men in green scrubs, masks and hats covering their faces and heads. A mask was placed over my mouth, and the room slowly went black, my father’s hand, tightly grasping mine.

***

A woman with a bone structure of a Goddess strode into the room. She was beautiful, tall, and shapely. Her eyes were turquoise blue, and they enchanted me. They were my favorite color. They were her true eyes, I could tell. She called off the men in the olive drab suits with a brisk nod, and they scampered away with their tail between their legs.

She eyed me, tears illuminating her beautiful blue eyes. She seemed to float to my bed, sunshine radiating around her like she was truly a heavenly creature. She stood above me, and grasped my hand.

“Can you wiggle your toes and fingers for me dear?” she asked softly.

My brain struggled to understand at first, and then when I made the effort to do as she asked, I could feel my body strain to do what should have taken no effort. A tingling sensation crawled up my arms and my pointer finger twitched. My body continued to strain, trying to grasp any feeling in my legs, yet there was nothing. Tears streamed down my face, but were quickly brushed away by a gentle hand whose owner I could not see.

The goddess stepped aside, and a woman who was small and frail looking, standing beside a man who looked just as ill, smiled down at me, tears streaking their faces. They stood above me, their familiarity coming slowly to me, as I felt the love radiate over me, seeming to seep from their smiles to my entire body.

“Your name is Annika,” said the woman, “you are 24 years old. You just saved millions of lives, because you are a brave, kind, wise little girl, and I am blessed and honored, to call you my daughter.”

I am the words.

I feel the words.

I ache to be the words.

I hunt for the perfect phrase,

A paragraph,

A sentence,

A line.

Something that calls to me,

Something that makes me feel alive.

Something that can accurately depict who I am.

What I am.

What I feel,

Or cannot feel.

What I am expected to feel.

I remember the words.

Every line,

Every syllable that has chipped away

At my core.

Everything he’s said.

More to make me hate me,

Then to make me feel love.

Words that have made me question my sanity,

Words that have ripped apart my soul.

Words that have written me off,

Words that make my body go cold.

Words I cling to,

That tear me down.

Words I remember,

As if to illustrate my pain,

Even after apologies are spoken.

The words still billow in my brain.

The words that have broken me,

Are remembered most clearly.

(Vicious, hate, selfish, cunt.)

Not the kind words,

Not the beautiful words,

(Smart, lovely, sexy, woman.)

Not the words spoken in love.

Is there something wrong with me?

Holding on to hopeless vocabulary?

Rarely holding words that provide strength.

Setting them aside, saving them.

Probably only in my darkest state.

They are then used to pull me back

To a place I feel less perilous,

Somewhere I feel slightly safe.

Otherwise they are tossed aside.

While I search stories and poems,

Hunting, searching, seeking,

For those words that set me free.

For those words that were written for me.

Let. Me. Out.

I don’t want to be held

Captive.

I found today

That this life is one of payments,

We won’t change the liars.

So, Society broke the chain.

I don’t need your mind.

I need freedom.

Let. Me. Out.

Because in the end we’re all

Alone.

Even the land breaks fee

From the sky.

Swallow your pride,

In the end we do what we

Need.

Even if we can’t.

While stoping by a cemetery on a rainy Sunday,

I stopped to pray.

The clouds are crowding my thoughts again.

I get lost along the way.

Through the graves and flowers wilted,

The rain, the smell, the people mourning.

Death is painful,

Letting loved ones go.

What you forgot to say.

It could happen any day.

I know why these people cry,

Why these flowers withered and wilted.

Why it’s so hard.

All those things you forgot to say.

Not sure where this one is going yet, but might as well enter it into the record ;)

“Moving Like the Speed of Sound, Can’t Stay in One Place”

She didn’t normally do this. It wasn’t like her to leave. She wasn’t the type of person to cross the threshold into the night without a word of goodbye. However, she knew she couldn’t go on this way anymore. She didn’t know where she was going, but she knew she couldn’t stay here. She didn’t want to be here anymore. She couldn’t.

She had never required much to be happy. She didn’t need a big, fancy house, nor is that what she got. A two-story white house, still outfitted with asbestos siding, that for obvious reasons should no longer be there, and windows that were anything but energy efficient. For all its flaws, she didn’t necessarily hate the house. However, the house wasn’t what she was really leaving behind.

She didn’t think that she would be gone for good. She didn’t want to leave behind her kids, her husband, her dogs, at least not forever. She just couldn’t think straight living under that roof tonight. She didn’t know what else to do.

She backed out of the driveway, without turning her lights on until she reached the end of the block. She didn’t even have the benefit of a predetermined route, so she decided she wouldn’t go west, which would be her normal route. She headed east, and she didn’t look back.

She wouldn’t look at her reflection in the rearview mirror for fear of what she would, or maybe wouldn’t see. She wasn’t short, nor was she exceptionally tall. She wasn’t fat, though she was far from skinny. She didn’t have perfect skin, though everyone always told her she looked like a porcelain doll. She wasn’t ugly, but she couldn’t admit she was beautiful either. She wasn’t stupid, but she didn’t feel very smart either. She could list off more things that she wasn’t, as opposed to things she was. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t help but think of all the ways she just wouldn’t ever be enough.

She didn’t bring much in the way of luggage. The bags she threw in the backseat of the old SUV she hadn’t driven for more than two years, contained nothing more than some clothes, toiletries, and her bag in which she kept her school work, laptop, and some art supplies.

With no plan in mind, she didn’t think about where she was driving, she just let her body and mind operate on autopilot. Her thoughts automatically reverted to the mantra of doom and gloom that had been going on in her head for the past several weeks. She was paying attention to her driving, yet remained unaware of her surroundings.

It was no more than an hour ago we she decided she couldn’t take it anymore. She didn’t necessarily feel good about her decision, she couldn’t help but compare herself to her unpredictable and undependable mother. Yet, she also felt as if though this decision could not be undone. She couldn’t just go back home now, even though she was sure that no one was aware that she was gone, and probably wouldn’t know until morning.

She didn’t understand how she could go on living a life that was so different from the one she planned. She had not given in to being weak since her children were born. She hadn’t let her mask slip, she hadn’t once let herself consider letting her walls down, to allow the chaos inside bubble over. Looking back, maybe she should have. Maybe she shouldn’t have remained a pillar of stability, the center of her family’s universe.

She knew if she stayed there tonight, there would be no coming back from the decisions that were threatening to destroy her. Although leaving was rash, she couldn’t imagine it could be as bad as ending it all. She didn’t think she had the guts to do that, and she hated the idea of suicide, but she was running out of time in the life that she was living.

We are sometimes referred to as chameleons. My type. The collective “They” are a government agency, or maybe several government agencies. They are charged with the task of “collecting” us. That is why I must stay under the radar. Not even my family can know, I would not wish to ever put them in danger. “They” seek us out, to do a number of jobs. We are imprisoned by our own country. Therefore, I hide.

I have yet to be noticed, and remaining that way is a job no one may notice I am doing.

All my life, I have always thought that I was myself. I suppose, this is something everyone feels, until something happens to change one’s perception. “To thine own self be true.” Not sure who actually coined that phrase, but the message it sends once made sense to me. I’ve found that one’s “own self” is not always “thine self.” “Thine self” can be drastically different when reverting to one’s true nature.

The first time it happened, it happened in the moment, in the second, right before an orgasm. It all happened so quickly, or so it seemed, that I was almost sure I hallucinated the whole thing in the heat of the moment. I was on top of him, rolling my hips faster, feeling that sweet familiar build up, when it happened. My hands were on my chest when I saw them disappear. Not into him, but just vanish. I suddenly seemed to fall outside of myself, seeing my body from his view point. Almost at the same time, I felt myself shift back, my body shuddering, as I came harder than I have ever before in my life. He came next flipping positions so his body stiffened on top of my still quaking body, both of us out of breath and clutching one another.

I had heard about them. Being captured, or "removed," and they have all supposedly being altruistic enough to dedicate their lives to serving the government.

These people had similarities. Above average intelligence, yet not people who were noticed or noted for any great contributions to the human race. They had either grown up in a rural area, or currently resided in a rural area. Not necessarily religious people, yet not scientific, generally of the spiritual variety.

One lady was noticed as she was attending a yoga class. The other participants in the class claimed she just simply vanished while in the downward dog pose, and the lady behind her had a heart attack. As soon as this was reported in the small-town newspaper, the authorities removed her from her job in a logistics company that was not named in the media.

Another woman was discovered, after a car accident in Iowa. She, herself, was not in the accident but pulled a small boy from the backseat of the car, from which his mother had been ejected. The car was starting to smoke heavily, and on instinct she acted. After she had pulled the boy from the vehicle, two bystanders ran towards them, and the little boy was suddenly floating in midair. He started to shriek, seeing the evergreens that should have been directly behind the woman. He claimed he could feel her arms around him, but to touch them was impossible, for even as he felt the press of them against his skin, he could not feel them in the air. Moments later she came back into view, and one of the onlookers promptly fainted. The woman calmly set the boy down, and walked to her car. She got in and drove off. One of the bystanders must have written down her license plate number, for an anonymous source reported to a local newspaper that she was “removed from her home by men driving government issued vehicles.”

It started happening to me at odd times, in odd situations. The first time, I was having coffee at my kitchen table and reading the newspaper. I was reading a very emotionally charged article about a child who had shaved his head to support his grandpa's battle with cancer. The kids at school had started bullying him, and he started having trouble in his classes. His principle called him into his office, and in support had the boy watch him shave his own head, in support as well. They held a school assembly and explained to the other kids why they had shaved their heads, and the grandpa was a special guest. 

As I was reading this story, my eyes welled with tears, and I dabbed at them with a tissue. When I looked back down at the newspaper, I could not see my body. The sensation was almost feeling like a wallflower. I was looking at the room, being present in the room, without actually being in it. I was one with the wall, one with the chair, one with the table. I was no longer me, I was apart of my surroundings. I could feel my heart start to race, but yet I felt no anxiety. I got up to walk around my dining room, and it was as if I was wearing the Cloak of Invisibility from Harry Potter. Except there was no magic, it was just me.

I was brought back to the present by my door opening, and my sister walked inside. I looked back down at myself, and noticed I was back, I was visible again. I must have had a stupid look on my face, as she asked me what I was doing, what my deal was.

"Uh... Nothing... I was just reading this really sad article, and lost myself I guess." It was the only way I could think to respond.

"Okay... Well you look like you've seen a ghost."

"I sort of feel like I've seen one... I need to sit down maybe. Coffee has gone straight to my brain."

She eyed my with suspicion, but went to the kettle to pour herself some hot water. I went to grab the Aeropress, to press her some fresh coffee. Afterwards, she grabbed the cup and joined me at the table. I showed her the article. She had never has been the one to feel the weight of the world, the pain of others. She read the article without skipping a beat, and looked up.

"Yeah, that's really sad. But it's happy too at least. No sad endings," she said.

And that was it. She was normal. No Invisibility Cloak. That's when I knew. 

I started researching Chameleons. I wanted to know more. That's when I read the articles of the woman saving the boy, the woman at yoga class. There is not a great deal of research on what makes a Chameleon a Chameleon. There is a lot of conspiracy theories. Blogs, web forums, those are plentiful on ideas. The closest I have come to actually finding the truth has been through a web forum. There is a man on there who identifies himself as Chameo360. He posts at random, though only on the Chameleon web forums. I've looked his username up, and that is all I could find. He claims to be a scientist, though he does not mention what agency he is, or has been affiliated with. He posts tidbits of information, not revealing too many details at one time.

I decided to reach out to this man. He responded swiftly. He asked what my interest was. I told him I needed to know more, I needed to understand. I told him it was vital. He asked if he could add me on Snapchat. As weird as it sounded to me, it made sense. He asked me to send him a video of my surroundings, a video of myself simply saying "Are you afraid of the big bad wolf" and nothing else. After I completed those two tasks, he did the same for me. 

As odd as it may sound, this all made sense to me. I am not a firm believer in Snapchat, but from what I understand, it's hard to fake a Snap. He was a younger man than I thought he would be. I would guess maybe six years older than myself, placing him at around thirty-one. This was only a guess, but I've always prided myself in being able to trust my instincts, as they've honestly never been wrong. That is another thing I've learned about Chameleons. 

He proceeded to send me information in pieces. I could save the screenshots, but he said he was putting faith in me to let these pieces of information fall into cyber waste. It is this information that has propelled me forward. I have dedicated myself to a mission, that I have not known, but known was meant for me my entire life. 

Do you write?

For one day,

Someone might dissect your words?

Or,

Do you write?

For you have,

A story to tell?

Do you write?

To send out,

A quick message?

Or,

Do you need,

Stolen moments?

Days to ponder?

When you write,

Does it drain you?

After pen is put to paper,

Does it bleed out of you?

Or,

Does it exhilarate you?

Does it revive you?

Is it oxygen to your lungs?

Do you even write?