The door swings open, door knob banging into the wall behind it. Nurses flood in, wearing every facial expression from annoyed to alarmed, and running in behind the herd is Dr. Grant. They find me in the corner of the hospital room, sprawled across the bed screaming bloody murder. With my fists pounding, my feet kicking, and my head shaking furiously, I try to explain, "They're coming, please, they're coming!" I watch the nurses bind me down to the bed, using my wrists and ankles; no one seems to be heeding my obvious warning.
"I'm saying this as loud as I can!" I shriek hysterically.
Dr. Grant kneels beside the head side of the bed, offering a small, reassuring smile. I allow him to comb his long, bony fingers through my hair. It's oily and unkempt, like a mistreated animal's. By now I've stopped squirming, but tears still stream from my eyes like a water fall as I moan heavily, "They're coming, why can't you hear me, why won't you listen... please, Doctor..."
Patting my shoulder, Dr. Grant calmly replies, "It'll be alright, Cassandra. It'll be alright."
"You people don't understand, I've seen it, I'm sure they're on their way now-"
"Shhh, Cassandra... Shhh."
Even in the dead of night, practically the early hours of dawn, with only the light of the hall way peering in from the cracks of the door Dr. Grant's deep blue eyes glittered like the sparkling constellations of a clear midnight sky. I could make out the large and baggy wrinkles underlining his eyes and edging the sides of his smile. His ghostly white head of hair seemed to glow in the dark, like it shone in the bright rays of daylight.
All I could do was nod. In the last couple of days, in this seemingly harmless and cleanly hell, I'd been trying my hardest at convincing them to save themselves.They must have believed I was insane, for no matter how much I begged they would not bother to listen. Just as Dr. Grant was doing now, they'd only smile and nod. I could tell looking into their large, open eyes they felt sorry for me. Yet I still couldn't bring myself to give in.
"Please," I beckoned even further. "Just- please, just consider." I ask it, like a prayer whispering as soft as the whistling winds, looking upward in search of a merciful God.
"What do we need to consider?" he questioned laughingly.
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