A Right to Die

An orb of light awoke me, dangerously close to my face. I squinted, my eyes obviously not used to the intrusion.

"Ugh...." I spoke softly, not knowing who or what could be in the room that particular moment.

"Amber! You're awake!" It was my mother, who sounded scared to death but also incredibly relieved when she heard my voice.

I turned my head to the right to see my mom rushing up to me, followed my my dad and my 16 year old brother. Wait, how did they get here?

"Amber, I'm so glad you're all right." my mom hugged me, earning groans of pain from my throat.

"Ow! Mom, that hurts!"

" Oh, sorry hon," It was then that I noticed my mother was crying. She just held my hand and smiled down at me, tears streaming down her face like a waterfall. My mom was an emotional person, and quite a moody person as well. I could understand her outburst and tears and didn't take it too much to heart.

"So...why are you here?" I asked nonchalantly, but it made my mom burst into a crying fit.

I noticed then what eerie surroundings I had. White sheets, off-white tiled floor, starch walls. My bed was unusually comfortable, but what I was wearing was not. Using a sheet with blue markings, it tied off in the center of my back and across the middle of my rear end. It was the oh-so-identifiable hospital gown.

"What happened? Why-Why am I in here?" I started panicking. Hospitals...there was just something about them. They were ominous, stale, haunting. I heard faded noises behind me, like muffled screams and cries of, "No!" Not the comforting words of my parents that I longed for in this moment.

"It's all gonna be okay, I promise, honey...We love you so much, Amber." My father reassured me.

"But what happened to me?" I raised my voice a bit at this point. I looked from my mom, to my dad, to my brother. "Scott, you'd tell me, right? What happened?" I whispered in his direction. He just stared at me, a blank look in his eyes. Like there was no emotion coursing through his veins.

Nobody would tell me anything. Was it something so horrible they couldn't even speak it?

"Hello, Ms. Steeley." Someone said from the doorway. I turned my head sharply and immediately reached a hand up to soothe my neck.

"Yes?"

"I am your doctor, Dr. Benson." He held out his hand. I shook it apprehensively.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong with me?" I asked, knowing that a doctor had to tell his patient exactly what was wrong with them and all the possible solutions. He was the guy to ask, if none of my family members woulds speak a word.

"Yes." He smiled lightly at me. It was forced, I could tell. Like he pitied me.

My parents rushed out of the room, and I caught the tail end of what my mother said, "...hear that again, I'll have a nervous breakdown." Oh great, so there was something seriously wrong with me.

My father yelled for my brother, obviously not wanting him to stay in the room with me. Dr. Benson winced at the noise. I would think he'd be used to screaming, after all, it was a hospital.

After Scott had closed my door, Dr. Benson looked me straight in the eye. I was caught a little off-guard; nobody had really ever looked me square in the eye before.

"Ms. Steeley, Amber, what I'm about to tell you is very severe. It appears as though you feel no pain, although you are suffering severe wounds."

"But...what's wrong with me? What happened? How did I get this way? What am I suffering from?" I pounded him with questions, but he just took it in stride.

"Well, the damage has most definitely been dealt. I'll start from the head, and go down, alright?" Dr. Benson pulled out a sheet of paper, and looked it over. His face was visibly disgusted at the things he saw on the page. I was getting a little paranoid now.

"Okay."

"Well, first, you had a minor wound at the base of your head." He pointed to the back of my neck, where it had hurt when I moved my head earlier.

"That's not bad, right?"

"No." Dr. Benson chuckled. "But the rest are. For instance, one of your breasts has been completely torn off. There is a large wound in your lower back - we already had to remove a pierced kidney. Both of your legs, from the knee down, have been severely burned. It was almost as if they were cooked - your arteries and veins are not working properly, and your bone seems limp. It is almost definite that, if you survive, you will need them both amputated."

"'If I survive'?" I squeaked. I was in utter agony. It was by magic, it had to be, that as soon as he said each and every one of my lacerations, that area on my body would start to tremble. Then it was as if the skin and the tissue shattered inside my body, much like a vase shattering when it hits the floor. All I was left with was an open wound.

It's exactly like when you get a huge scrape while coming down from the very top of a tree, the tree you were so proud of yourself for climbing. You don't notice you have this huge gash in your arm until you take off your jacket, see the blood smeared all over your arm and the fabric. Then the throbbing pain hits you like a tidal wave, crashing through your body without warning.

"Yes. There's a very real, and a very high possibility, that you will not survive the week." Dr. Benson had that same look in his eyes that Scott did the blank, void of emotion.

"What would kill me tonight, if I were to just sit here?"

"Well, the blow to your back is severe. The pierced kidney has infected numerous organs around it, and it would no doubt spread to your spinal cord. You would then become completely paralyzed, but of course, you would still be conscious. After that, the infection from both the kidney and your legs will spread to your heart and kill you." Empty, blank, and emotionless. How could he tell me this while looking me square in the eye, not feeling any compassion?

"So my only option is to just sit here and wait to die?" I questioned, my eyes narrowing. He had seemed like a friend, someone who would help me, but all he did was deliver bad news with no expression. That, as far as I'm concerned, is not what a friend would do.

"Well, no. You can choose to be taken off life support. You would pass a lot of pain and suffering."

I mulled it over in my head, long after Dr. Benson and my family had gone. Long into the night, just staring at my disgustingly white bed sheet, thinking about all the benefits and drawbacks from intentionally killing myself.

---

Two days later, I was in much more pain than I could have ever imagined. I didn't believe that Dr. Benson said it would only get worse until I passed away. It was already too much to handle.

I was eternally glad that I had chosen to be taken off life support that afternoon.

Of course, people did not take my decision well. Why in the world would a cute, 20 year old woman want to end her life? The media was making my choice out to be a mistake. As far as they knew, nothing was wrong with me. They knew nothing about my one-breasted, torn open, 1st-degree burned body. But they could find out after I was gone. All hell would break loose when everyone found out what a horrible state I was in. They would congratulate me; tell me I did the right thing. I might even become somewhat of a local hero.

But nobody was thinking about the future today. My mother was crying her eyes out, screaming, "I want my baby girl back!" and clawing at my father, who was trying to hold her back without breaking down himself.

Then there sat my little brother, Scott. I can count, vividly, almost every time he ever blackmailed me into doing something for him, stole things of mine, or just plainly told me that he hated me. Now, I could see his trembling figure. He was trying to hold back tears, not allowing himself to fall apart like my mom so clearly had. I was touched - I knew that deep down he really did love me, he just never showed it.

They were all going to miss me.

"I love you." I breathed quietly. It was the loudest I could muster, the torturing wounds giving me no mercy.

My mother cried harder, "I love you too, sweetie!"

"Honey, we love you!" My father called out.

"Love ya." Scott said, almost inaudibly. I smiled.

They wheeled me into a small, whitewashed room. It was ominous, frightening, and unearthly. But it was comforting, in some twisted way. I thought about all of my friends, all of my family. My kitten, Clarise, who missed me at home. I never realized how I took so much for granted....

"Think about a special place, sweets, somewhere you love or would love to go to." the nurse behind me said. I closed my eyes and imagined myself in a wide-open field, looking up at the stars. I was so small compared to it all. Maybe I would be up there soon enough.

My fingers trembled as I clung onto an old photograph of my family with all of my strength. My body shook arms and legs flailing in all possible directions. The nurse held the needle to my shoulder nonetheless.

As the heart monitor slowed, I realized there was absolutely no turning back now. Maybe, if I just shouted....

But a dark shadow silenced my thoughts. Creeping across my mind, it carefully decomposed and eliminated everything stored inside it. Friends, family, everything was erased, slowly but carefully. Floating away, giving me once last glance at all of my memories before they were gone forever.

Total agony was replaced by a complete peace. I stopped convulsing. As if from somewhere far behind me, the heart monitor flatlined.The steady noise faded behind me until nothing was left. An eerie metaphor for my last days.

The woman that was once Amber Steeley was now gone.