• I was there, staring at my old plaster wall above my bed. My light dusty blonde hair was stuck to my sweat covered forhead. I sat, unmoving in my bed. The light blue cover was just visible in the almost dim light outside my large window. I was sitting in my white flanel nightgown and the thick conferter was on top of me.
    I wasen't hot, I was sick. Dying. I sat waiting for death to take me under from the pain and suffering that I am enduring. I was freezing cold, and I throw up ever what, ten minutes. My eyes where blood-shot from lack of sleep. And the worst part was, I was alone.
    My best best BEST friend was in Arizona, and my only family died of the same thing about two months ago. I was hiding. I wouldn't, couldn't face my friend if I survived. I wouldn't.
    Sleep took me under after a few minutes. Thinking this might be it...
    * * *
    I awoke to the muted light of yet another day, with an upset tummy.
    I streaked as fast as I could-which wasn't very fast-to the bathroom. After that happened, I went back to my "Death Bed" As I called it, hoping it will be the place I that I go in. I sat on the bed and sewed up my old rag doll, planning to take it with me.