The Painful Question

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Hey guys!

So here's my book- The Rebel! I have enterd it into the Watty Awards, so please vote, comment, and recommed to your friends!



Could also pray for this book as well? I wanna see what God will do through this- and I hope I finish it by the end of November!



Thanks!!

God bless you all!!



~Lillian <3



I must stress that everything I write is FICTION. But, yes, the Lord is coming again soon! Comment any questions you may have. I'd love to answer them :)



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I was awake before I opened my eyes.

I layed motionless and listened to the world around me. All I could find was a steady, mechanical beep-beep-beep beside me. I slowly and calmly opened my eye lids.

I was then blinded by a bright, a white light and it burned my eyes slightly, and they began to water. I shock my eye lids closed again, but soon forced my self to slowly open them again, blinking several times, adjusting to the light.

Once my vision returned to normal, I observed my new surroundings. Everything was white. The bed I layed in, the walls around me, the ceiling above, the chairs scatted around the room but all facing me, and the big white machine by my side.

I sat up and squinted at the screen. Mountins sprouted upward with every note emmiting from the monitor. I then quickly recognized the pattern- my heart beat.

I found the cord connected to my and removed the round sticker at it's end from my chest. I then realized that I was in a medical gown. What am I doing in a hospital?

That\'s when I officially kicked into survival mode.

I spotted the bag of liquid on a thin, silver, pole on my left, I looked at my arm and quickly removed the IV. It hurt, but I didn't care. Pain is temporary.

I ripped the sheets off my body. I was greeted by cold, cruel air. When my bare feet found the tile floor, I found it even colder. Then the door across the room cracked open. I had to time to think.

I hit the deck.

I rolled to the right under the bed, watching the two army boots at the door way. I dared to skoot closer to get a better look.

Beneath the door frame stood a teen-aged boy, with a clipboard in his arms. His curly blonde hair went down to his chin and his pale blue eyes scanned the room, looked back down at the clip board, then jumped up suddenly, his gaze landing on the bad. His mouth opened a bit.

After a silent moment, he slowly reached down and pulled a walkie from his belt around his army-like, tan pants. Right next to his gun.

My hands balled into fist and I started thinking of ways to escape, just in case. He blocked the only exit. An he was deffinatly not a doctor.

The Rebel ~ {FINALIST} WATTY AWARDS 2011~ completedWhere stories live. Discover now