Captain Janeway Captain s Slave
- 4 years ago
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Every New Beginning... free porn video
The following story is sadly lacking in sex, drugs, or rock 'n roll. It
does contain some mildly strong language. It is also rather metaphysical,
something that seems to have become a pattern in my story writing of late.
The usual conditions apply. Free sites wanting it in their collection may
archive it as-is with my blessing - Though I would appreciate being notified.
Pay sites may not archive it or otherwise use it without my expressed
permission. Anyone violating these conditions risks bad karma and the
possibility that I might sic a lawyer-type leech on them. Constructive criticism
is welcome and begged for, flames go to /dev/null/ - whatever in the world that
is.
YMMV, No deposit/No Return, and all that...
Every New Beginning...
By Myria
"Every new beginning comes from
some other beginning's end..."
Semisonic
"I'm not cut out for this," the doctor mumbled to herself as she hurriedly
changed.
The nurse raised an eyebrow, but ignored the comment. Working in an ER was
hard on everyone, new doctors most of all.
"So what the hell happened?" The doctor asked as she started to scrub up.
"I was told to expect several patients."
"Tractor-trailer roll over on I-495, crushed one car and there was a three
car pile-up from behind. One fatality so far, we don't know how many injured to
expect."
"What do we have now?"
"Caucasian male, approximately eighteen years old. Severe head trauma,
multiple broken ribs, at least one collapsed lung, compound fracture of the
right femur, multiple contusions, and that's just for starters." The nurse
paused, sighing. "It doesn't look good."
"Crap."
"It gets worse. His mother was the fatality, they were in the car the
truck rolled over on."
"I'm really, really not cut out for this..." The doctor said, shaking her
head
+++
I woke up with a start. My back hurt, whatever I'd been sleeping on wasn't
very comfortable. I sat up slowly, the lights seemed too bright. I'd been lying
on a couch, more like a torture device trying to pass itself off as a couch. I
was in a waiting room of some sort, doctor's office? Or maybe a hospital. How
did I get here, what was I doing here? I cast back through my still half-asleep
mind, trying to figure it out. Nothing, my memory was a total blank.
"Hi."
I glanced over, startled. A little girl was sitting in a chair to the
right of the couch I was on; apparently she and I were the only ones in the
room. I put my head in my hands, trying without luck to wish the cobwebs away.
"Hi," I replied to her, my voice sounding very odd and muffled through my
fingers.
"Are you okay?"
I looked up, absently counting the holes in the ceiling tiles as I
considered that question. "I'm not sure," I finally replied. "I feel okay, but I
can't remember how I got here."
"You were here when I came in."
That wasn't particularly helpful, but it wasn't her fault. I looked back
at her, this time paying more attention. She was maybe seven or eight, cute in
the way most little girls are but more so. She was wearing a pink satin dress
that somehow seemed out of place in the austere surroundings of the waiting
room, Mary Jane's, her long brunette hair in ponytails. There was something
about her, for some reason I felt like I should recognize her, but I couldn't
put my finger on it. "What's your name?" I finally asked.
"Amber Marie," she replied in that serious tone only children seem to
really be able to use. "What's yours?"
"Jeff."
"That's funny," she said, her expression indicating more distaste than
humor.
"Why?"
"Jeffrey is a little boys name."
"Yes, so?"
"Well you can be Jeffrey if you want, but I don't think you want." She
paused for a moment and then brightened as apparently an idea occurred to her.
"Here," she said, pulling out a much abused looking Barbie doll from beside her,
"would you like to play with my doll?"
I hesitated as she held it out to me. There was something very weird going
on here that I couldn't quite seem to wrap my mind around.
"You've always wanted to play with dolls, haven't you?" She asked.
"Why do you say that?"
She smiled. "I know things."
"Like?"
She set the doll down on the small coffee table in front of me. "I've got
to go now, but I'll leave her here to keep you company."
I stared at the doll for a moment before I realized she really was
leaving. "Goodbye, Amber."
She paused, her hand on the door. "You're Amber, silly," she said with a
giggle, "I'm going to go be Jeffrey for a while."
I stared at the door as it closed behind her. What on god's green earth
had she meant by that? I shook my head, trying to forget about it. Just the
silly words of a young girl. I had bigger problems, like why was I here and how
had I gotten here? I felt like I should go look for someone who might have the
answers, but somehow I couldn't find the motivation to get up.
Remembering the doll, I reached over to pick it up. One thing was true; I
had always wished I could play with dolls. But how had that little girl known
that?
I screamed as my fingers touched the doll and what felt like a lightning
bolt shot through my body. My muscles went rigid, everything hurt, and I was in
agonizing pain. There was a bright light directly in my face, something over my
mouth, voices and noises around me. I couldn't move, I couldn't think,
mercifully I passed out quickly.
+++
"What the hell are you doing?" The doctor yelled at the anesthesiologist.
"Calm down, Syl, it happens. He's back under now."
The doctor mumbled something under her breath. "What's his BP?"
"Ninety over forty, pulse is unsteady."
"Shit. Get him on another unit of whole blood."
"Already on it," a nurse replied.
"And where the hell is Johnson?" The doctor demanded of the room in
general. "I'm going to need help getting this kid's face rebuilt." If, she
thought to herself, he even makes it that far.
+++
I was lost in dreams. Images that seemed to flash by faster than I could
assimilate them. More like watching short films than dreaming, really. An image
of my mother giving me a pretty pink satin dress for Easter Sunday. The sound of
a truck horn very close as my mother screamed and threw her arm across me.
Playing skip rope with my girlfriends in the summer sun. The images came and
went so fast that they stopped even registering, I stopped even trying to figure
out what they were of. It felt like ants were crawling all over my skin, and my
stomach was upset, but at least that horrible pain was gone. Next to that the
dreams seemed somehow comforting.
"Amber?" A voice, very close, said.
"How the hell did she get left alone?" A second voice asked.
"I don't know, in all the confusion I guess..."
"Just don't let CPS know about this."
"Are you kidding?" There was a pause. "Amber?" This time whoever it was
shook me. "Amber, honey, it's time to wake up."
"Is she okay?"
"Yeah, it's a miracle but she wasn't hurt at all."
"Bloody big miracle, considering. Does she know?"
"Don't think so."
"Poor kid."
"Yeah." They said, shaking me again.
"Go away," I mumbled. I was happy in the dream world and just wanted to be
left alone.
"I'm sorry, honey, but you need to get up now," the person closest to me
said.
My sleep ruined, I grumpily sat up and rubbed my eyes. I was still in the
waiting room, but there were two women there with me. One, the one kneeling in
front of me, was wearing a nurse's uniform, the other, standing in front of the
coffee table, was dressed like a normal person. "I don't want to get up, I want
to sleep," I said with a pout. "And why do you keep calling me Amber?"
The nurse glanced back at the other woman. "Because that's your name?" The
normal dressed woman said hesitantly.
"My name is Jeff," I declared, "and stop treated me like I'm a little kid,
I'm eighteen for god's sake."
The older, normal dressed woman knelt down in front of me, next to the
nurse. "I'm sorry, Sweetie," she said, putting her hand on my leg and squeezing
it gently, "I know everything is confusing for you right now."
I looked down at her hand, and that's when it all hit me. It wasn't the
pink satin dress I was wearing that blew my mind, somehow that seemed normal
even though it shouldn't have. It wasn't how small and thin my legs looked in
those white tights, or how tiny my feet were in those silly looking Mary Janes.
It was how incredibly big her hand looked, how big both women seemed. Like I'd
been suddenly transported to the land of giants. Something was wrong, something
was very, very, very wrong.
I looked up at both women, my eyes starting to fill with tears. "Where's
my Mommie? I want to see my Mommie."
There were tears in the normal dressed lady's eyes and the nurse lady
looked like her heart was about to break. "I'm sorry, Sweetie," the nurse-lady
finally said, "but you can't see your Mommie right now."
I could see it in both their eyes, feel it in my memories. The sound of a
truck's horn, my mother screaming and her arm against me, pressing me back into
my seat as metal crunched and the world turned upside down.
"She's dead, isn't she?" It was a statement, but I needed to know.
The normal-dressed lady nodded and they both hugged me as I started to
cry.
+++
"Okay, the right lung is re-inflated," Dr. Johnson said, stretching for a
moment and hearing his back crack.
"What about the leg?" Sylvia asked.
"Screw the leg for now, Doctor, first things first. It's packed, we need
to get him completely stabilized first."
"You're right, sorry, there's just so much."
The two doctors exchanged knowing looks. Dr. Sylvia Athens looked away
first, trying to stomp down on the sadness and anger she felt towards fate and
the world in general. She didn't have time for that now; this boy's life was
still hanging by a thread.
"Water?" She said, "Can somebody get me some water, please?"
+++
The full extent of what had happened to me didn't really hit me until a
nurse, a different one, took me to the bathroom after they'd gotten me calmed
down enough to eat something. Seeing myself in a full-length mirror it was
obvious why they thought I was Amber. I was the girl who had been in the waiting
room, long brunette pony tails, cute face, seven or eight year old body, and
all. Sitting on the potty to pee was only an anticlimactic confirmation that the
changes were more than skin deep.
The sight of myself as a little girl should have come as much more of a
shock than it did. I guess I was too numb from the knowledge that my mother was
gone. A part of me said that this was my fault, what I deserved for wishing for
what I'd gotten. But if that was true, why my mother? She didn't deserve to die.
Why not me? I deserved to die. A part of me wished I was dead too.
The rest of the day was a blur. Some of the nurses and an elderly man who
was some kind of priest tried to talk to me, but I wouldn't let them. I didn't
want to talk to anyone; I just wanted to be left alone. I cried a lot and I
think I slept some.
Eventually a middle-aged motherly looking woman showed up and tried to
talk to me. I ignored her too. She talked to the nurses a lot and then to a
doctor and then she finally came and told me that she was going to take me away.
Then I really cried. I cried and I screamed and I even kicked her. I wouldn't
let her touch me, I wasn't going away. My mother was here; I didn't want to
leave her. I knew she was dead, but somehow leaving would be wrong. I wasn't
leaving, I wasn't going away, and I wouldn't let them make me.
I was still kicking and screaming when two nurses helped hold me down. A
doctor came in and lifted my skirt and pulled down my panties. For a second I
thought he was going to spank me or something, but instead I felt a sharp sting
as he gave me some sort of shot. In a few minutes I felt much calmer. The lady
talked to me for a minute, I don't even remember what she said, and then led me
out of the hospital and to her car.
I spent two days in a foster home; mostly I kept to the room they gave me.
I spent a lot of time laying on the bed, crying. It seemed like all I did was
cry. The man and woman who were taking care of me were nice enough, they were
very sad for me and, thankfully, they mostly left me to myself even though they
checked on me a lot. They even mostly let me eat my meals in my room. Every
morning when I woke up the woman, her name was Jackie, would be sitting in the
chair next to my bed reading a book.
The morning of my mother's funeral was the hardest. Jackie was waiting,
sitting next to my bed, and she'd brought a black dress and black hat for me to
wear. She wanted to help me do my hair and get dressed. I threw a fit, I feel a
bit bad about it now. It was the only time I ever rejected my girlhood. Somehow
a part of me thought that if I could reject that than it would change
everything, my mother would still be alive. I told her I was really a boy and
that my name was Jeff and that I was eighteen years old, but of course she
didn't believe me. I cried a lot and she cried and finally I calmed down enough
to where she could help me get ready.
I never told anyone else the truth, there just didn't seem to be any point
and I didn't want them to think I was crazy. And I never told anyone about the
real Amber, the little girl I'd met in the waiting room. I guess that somewhere
inside I really wanted to believe I was her.
The funereal was a surreal experience. It was closed coffin; thankfully,
the last thing I wanted was to see my mother's dead body. There'd been no wake,
my mother despised such things. There were all these people there who knew me,
none of whom I knew. Relatives I'd never heard of or in some instances knew
couldn't be. It didn't matter, though, I tried to be strong and not to break
down and cry. I succeeded, but only by putting myself into an odd little state
where it was as though I was watching the whole thing from another vantage point
as it all happened to me. When they finally started tossing dirt on my mother's
coffin I did break down and I only vaguely remember someone leading me away.
Oddly, it never occurred to me to wonder if the woman who'd been buried
that day was really my mother. The way my world had been turned topsy-turvy, it
didn't really matter. Whether she was my mother or the real Amber's mother, she
was still my mother.
However these things are done, it was decided that I would be sent to go
and live with an Aunt and Uncle, my mother's brother. I didn't know either of
them, of course, and they didn't really know me. Things were a bit tough at
first, they didn't have any children and I don't think they wanted any, and I
was more than a bit cold towards them. No one was going to replace my Mom.
Eventually my life settled down some and I stopped being "that little girl
whose mom died". My stepparents warmed up to me, and I to them. Things could
never be the same, but at least I didn't feel miserable all the time. I didn't
come to terms with my mother's death until many years later, but at least the
pain faded a little.
You would think that there would be a lot of adjusting I would have had to
go through simply because of the transformation I'd gone through even on top of
everything else. Being an eight-year-old girl is a lot different from being an
eighteen-year-old boy, but compared to the other changes in my life it wasn't
anything and I adjusted to it without even really thinking. Even reveled in it
in a sense. My stepmom, old fashioned woman that she was, was even heartened and
encouraged my tendencies towards the girlishly feminine side of things. When I
finally went back to school I think I was the only girl in my class who wore
dresses more often than not.
It reached a point where I started to wonder if my memories of being Jeff
were even real or if they were some kind of odd reaction to the stress I'd been
under when my mother had died. There were a few things that made me think it was
real, like the way in school I already knew everything, but there were things
that made me think it was fake too. Like the way I could remember being Jeff,
but couldn't remember much about him. I didn't know and, eventually, I didn't
care. Whatever the answer was it just didn't matter. I was still sad that my
mother was gone, but I'd come to a point where I was happy with who I was and my
life in a way I couldn't remember ever being before. For a long time I just
forgot about the whole thing and lived my life.
+++
"This kidney is a mess, I think we're going to have to remove it," Den
Johnson said, watching the image on a monitor.
"Look at the pics again, Doctor, he's only got one. Congenital, looks
like."
"Shit!"
"Yeah," Sylvia sighed.
+++
There was one thing that brought the whole thing back in an odd kind of
way. I was eighteen, it was my graduation. I was the class valedictorian and I
had just finished my speech. When I looked up there she was, the "other" Amber,
standing near the back of the room watching me and smiling. I stared at her,
stunned, she looked the same, was even dressed the same, as she had been all
those years ago in that waiting room. The principle said something, probably
because I was standing there like an idiot, and I glanced away. When I looked
back, she was gone.
Far from weirding me out, it made me very happy to see her. I had no idea
what it was, but there was a bond between us and I felt as long as she was
around looking after me everything would be okay.
I saw her again two years later at my wedding. When Mark and I turned to
face the guests, there she was standing in the aisle smiling and looking so
happy for me she practically glowed. Mark kissed me, and when I looked back, she
was gone.
And again, a year after that, when my daughter was born. She was there, in
the room with me, a smile of concern and happiness on her face. She was there
for my son's birth as well, by then I would have been disappointed if I hadn't
seen her. For every important event in my life she was there, somewhere,
watching and smiling. I even think I sometimes saw her in my day-to-day life. I
would catch a glimpse of her in the mall or on the street, but I could never
really be sure it was really her.
+++
"He's flatlining!" The anesthesiologist cried out.
Sylvia froze, one hand still partially in the young man's abdomen. "Oh no
you don't! After six hours of surgery you are not going to die on me!"
"Crash cart," Den yelled, "now!"
A nurse was already wheeling it into place, handing the paddles to Dr.
Athens and then spreading conductive goo over their surface.
"Clear!" Sylvia said, pressing the paddles down onto the boy's chest.
Kilo-joules of energy stabbed into the boy, causing every muscle in his
body to simultaneously contract.
The anesthesiologist shook his head. "Nothing."
Den made an adjustment on the defibrillator. "Hit him again."
+++
I'd never been sick in my life, always was healthy and even the birth of
my two children had gone so well and easily that my Ob/Gyn had commented on it.
Something was wrong now, though, and they didn't know what. It wasn't usual for
a forty-three year old woman to just pass out in a grocery store for no apparent
reason, and that worried my doctor more than a little. I didn't think it was any
big deal, but both my husband and my doctor were adamant about not taking any
chances. So I agreed, not without some trepidation, to spend a few days in the
hospital for tests.
The first night I was there I woke up in the middle of the night,
something had startled me out of a sound sleep. She was there; I knew it even
before I saw her. She was standing just outside the open door to my room and for
the first time she didn't look happy, she looked sad. I started to say
something, but she turned and walked away, for a moment I wondered if I'd
dreamed the whole thing.
I got out of bed, intending to follow her.
+++
"Nothing," the anesthesiologist said again.
"Get the spreaders, Den, I'm going in."
+++
The hallway was empty and strangely quiet, even at night there's always
the noise of machines and things in a hospital.
Amber was standing at the end of the hallway, looking back at me. I
started to walk towards her, but she turned and walked down another hall.
"Amber?" I cried after her.
Nothing.
+++
"It's over, Syl," Dr. Johnson said, putting his hand on her shoulder.
"No, it isn't, goddamn it," she said, half climbing up on the operating
table to get a better angle.
+++
I reached the end of the hallway just in time to see Amber open a door
about halfway down the opposite corridor and walk in.
Desperate to know what was going on, I followed after her.
+++
It was over, and Sylvia knew it. She climbed down off of the operating
table, turning away to hide the tears in her eyes. "Call it," she said quietly,
her voice trailing off.
Den looked up at the clock. "Nine eighteen PM."
The nurse nodded and pulled the sheet up over the young man's body. "You
did all you could, doctors."
Sylvia sighed. "Does that matter if it's not enough?"
+++
The room Amber had gone into had a bunch of seats in it arranged like you
might find in a movie theatre. The front of the room was one big glass window
looking down into what appeared to be an operating room or something. She was
standing by the window, looking down.
"Amber?" I said softly, not wanting to startle her.
"You're Amber, remember?"
"I know, but you are too."
She turned to face me, she looked so sad. "We both are, in a sense. I'm
sorry I couldn't give you more time."
I shook my head, confused, then looked down into the operating room. There
was a man and a woman standing to one side, talking, they both looked very sad.
There were a couple of nurses who looked like they were cleaning things up. And
there was someone on the operating table, someone who was covered from head to
toe in a green sheet. I knew, somehow, who was under that sheet and why those
people looked so sad.
"That's me down there, isn't it?" I asked, a chill of knowledge running
down my spine.
"That was you, a very long time ago."
"I don't understand... You did this?"
"We did this, Amber."
I shook my head again, it was too much. I sat in one of the chairs,
looking away because I didn't want to see what was going on in that room below
us. "So it was all a dream."
"It was real, just a different reality."
"Why did you do this?" I asked her.
"I told you, we did this. I'm you, Amber, a different you but we're the
same." She sighed. "It's so hard to explain, but you'll understand it all
eventually. I wanted to save you from all of this, but I couldn't so I did what
I could. When I saw you again, it was just so unfair. You were a girl, a woman
inside, you knew that didn't you?"
"Yes, I knew."
"I thought you did. It was just so unfair; you never got to be who you
were supposed to be. So I used the time I had to let you live another life. It's
not how it's supposed to be done, but..."
"You never got to live that life either. That's why you still look like a
little girl?"
She nodded.
"So what do we do now?"
She took my hand and I stood. "We move on," she said, leading me toward
the bright light that was forming where the door had been, "to the next
adventure."
Fin
Mikayla
- 30.05.2022
- 21
- 0
