I woke up—or at least I thought I did—in a dark, unfamiliar place. "Am I dead?" I wondered, straining to see anything in the oppressive darkness. I started walking, my footsteps echoing softly, searching for an exit. After seven minutes of fruitless wandering, I heard a faint chirping sound behind me. I turned swiftly and saw a shimmering light in the distance.
A strange pull, a mix of calm and curiosity, guided me toward it. As I approached, the light grew brighter and warmer, like a beacon in the darkness. I reached out toward it, stepping into the warmth, a tingling sensation washing over me.
When I emerged from the light, I found myself lying in a hospital bed. The room was sterile and quiet, interrupted only by the occasional beep of medical equipment and distant murmurs. My body felt sore and heavy, with bandages and medical devices attached to me. Confused, I tried to move, but a sharp pain shot through me.
A figure stood by the window, looking out thoughtfully. He appeared to be around my age, dressed in a suit that seemed oddly out of place for a hospital. He turned and saw me, his expression one of gentle surprise and concern.
"You're awake," he said softly, approaching me with a soothing voice. "How are you feeling?"
"Where am I?" I asked, my voice weak and hoarse.
"You're in the hospital," he explained. "You were in an accident. You saved a child, Cynthia. You're a hero."
I tried to sit up but was stopped by the pain. "The child... is she okay?"
"Yes," the boy said reassuringly. "She's fine, thanks to you. But you've been through a lot. Your body is healing, but you might experience some... changes."
"Changes?" I asked, puzzled.
Before he could answer, the heart monitor emitted a sudden, piercing cry. Medical staff rushed in, pushing him aside and attending to me. I tried to ask him more, but he was already slipping out of the room, his form fading like a mirage.
"It's a miracle," the leading doctor said to my parents, who had just arrived.
"Can we see her?" my mother asked, tears in her eyes.
"Of course," the doctor replied, guiding them to my room. When they saw my condition, they burst into tears and rushed to my side.
"You stupid, stupid girl," my mom sobbed. "You could have died, but you still saved that girl. The girl's parents didn't even check if you were alright."
I said , "I didn't do it to get thanked. I just wanted to save her life."
"But did you think of yours?" Mom said, hitting herself. "Why did I teach you to be so considerate?" Her crying intensified.
"Stop crying, Mom. If you keep crying, I might start crying too," I said, trying to comfort her.
"I'll find out when we can take you home," Dad said, leaving the room. He returned about three minutes later with a smile. "The doctor said we can take you home, but you should avoid stress and take a break from school for about two weeks. Your injuries should heal by then."
We left the hospital, and I noticed my injuries healing rapidly. My legs felt much better. I bent down to remove the bandages, but my parents tried to stop me. They paused when they saw only a few scars and the bandages stained with blood.
"This must be intervention from the heavens," Dad said, his voice filled with awe.
"Indeed," Mom agreed with a smile. "God must be very pleased with you."
As we drove away from the hospital, the shadow of a figure briefly flickered into view behind us before vanishing into the night.