Tehe! The New Fanfic! Preview?!

The new fanfic is coming along really great, I think! I'm so excited for this! Should I give you sorry saps a preview? I will, because I love you all! :D

PREVIEW OF NEW UN-NAMED FANFIC! --->

The air is dry and medical burning my throat to crisps. My nose smarts as I suck in a deep breath, coming up with nothing. There’s something cold and hard and plastic running through my nostril. It hurts. I reach up with shaking fingers and rip it out; gagging at it passes my uvula. I let the tube of plastic fall to the ground, which is right under me. I open my eyes but blackness is all I see. Gasping harder and harder for precious air like it’s my lifeline, I clutch the sheet situated carefully under my body, crumpling it up in my small hands. My breaths come in pants, and I start to panic.

Where the hell am I? Why is it so dark?

My throat constricts as I try to scream, can’t somebody help me? Does anyone know I’m here? I’m suffocating. Don’t they know I’m here? I’m suffocating. Help me. I force my hands to release the sheet and I grab my esophagus, clawing at it. I barely notice the pain I’m causing myself, because all I need is oxygen. Why can’t I breathe?

Desperate, I stretch my arms up high into the sky, where it connects with something stiff, and cold. More plastic? I bang on the hard surface, trying to replace the noise my tongue cannot configure. My chest heaves but my lungs are empty, and burning. Fire.

I can hear murmurs outside my grave, and shouting. The voices are muffled, but I can tell one is beautiful. Velvet. Mozart’s symphony. It composes me, and I take a shuddering breath, trying to calm myself. But there’s no air, and it’s dark, and I’m confused. There’s such a loud crashing sound and it take me a while to notice that it’s me, still banging on the plastic-feeling material above my head.

There’s one final shout, and then my ears pick up a beeping noise, soft but intelligible. The grave fills with air. Who dug me out? I’m blinded by an abrupt light that saturates my eyes. I blink, and notice it’s a hanging light fixture. Modern, and cold, like my grave.

“Dr. Carlisle, her throat!” A perky lady with spiky midnight hair bobs up into my line of vision. The first word I can think of is pixie. Her voice is high-pitched, and not very soothing, not like the other velvet voice I heard earlier.

My eyes focus and another face appears. Light and pale and pretty. All I think of is compassion, which are etching into his features as a hand strokes my now-burning throat and walks quickly away. Wait, no- I don’t want you to leave me. Stay. Don’t send me back into the grave. Please, God, no.

I feel thick gauze contacting with my neck like they are best friends. I note my hands are wet and hot, so I glance down at them, perplexed. They’re covered in blood. My blood. I unexpectedly feel extremely dizzy, and my head falls bad onto something soft, but firm. A doctor-type pillow you would usually find in a medical examination chair at your local hospital. My dark hair slips off the edge, this bed must be very thin. Am I in a hospital? What happened to me? Does Charlie know? Mom… no. I won’t think about her. She wouldn’t want me to.

“Bella, honey?” the pixie voice attacks me from the right, I move my head lazily in her direction. “You’re awake now, Bella, do you feel noxious? Can you try to sit up, dear?”

Small hands shift under me, and pulls me into a sitting position. Where the hell am I? I’m surrounded in a light-up tunnel, that’s very cold, and has a medical feel it. Maybe it’s because of the men and woman in long white coats, carrying small hand-helds? Or it could be the rows upon endless rows of plastic boxes, encasing the walls, looking like a morgue. Mom. No. Don’t think. Doctor’s are all around these boxes, looking at their hand-helds, typing something into a computer on the foot of each box, chatting mindlessly with other doctors and nurses, and glancing every few seconds at a huge digital clock that dominates the west side of the tunnel. The clock is counting down, it reads three days, twenty-three hours, forty-seven minutes, two seconds. It doesn’t take me long to realize that I myself are in one of these strange plastic boxes, and this pixie must be a nurse, or doctor.

“Carlisle!” the Pixie calls out into the tunnel, which is gray with sharp neon-blue lights elongating the walls. It strangely reminds me of a bee’s nest, with the entire bee’s army smarming around protecting their babies and bringing food to the Queen. It even has the same kind of shape. Round. But as I study closer it’s more octagonal than circular. "I need you to see if her pupils dilate, I'm not sure if she's conscious."

A medium-height, average build blonde man ghosts over to my box with unbelievable grace. Glasses are situated high on his head, holding back some thick locks, but he pulls them down to stare straight into my face. He pulls out a small, silver pen that magically transforms into a light and blinds me again in my left eye. The Pixie twills on, “Doctor, she’s seems a bit dazed, but I’m sure she’ll come out of her state any second now,”

Blondie nods.