Iza languished in the hospital bed. Yes, languishing seemed to be the appropriate word for what she was doing. But why should she care about her word usage, or anything else for that matter? In two months she would be dead, and no one cared. Her parents were too afraid of how she might have changed to visit. So they watched from afar, like civilians watching the news, encouraging the fighters, but not want to get too close. Whenever she got gifts from them she threw them away. Except for the chocolate. The hospital was obsessed with organic foods.
Doctor Robinson came in, looking tired. She hated him. Well, not really. It was just that she didn't want to die, and she felt like blaming everyone she knew for the unfairness of it all. Where was that feeling of peace dying people always talked about getting, because she had two months left and she hadn't gotten it yet. All she felt was weakness, which was terrible in a girl who had been able to run a mile in seven and a half minutes a year before.
"Doc," she said, keeping up the false demeanor of good cheer." You look like you haven't sleep in years. What is wrong?"
He made no reply, but lunged at her. Screaming, she pounded the nurse button on the wall, and a troupe of people soon arrived and subdued the doctor. Iza looked down at her hand, which he had bitten. Fortunately, he hadn't broken the skin.
"What do you think you were trying to pull?" She yelled as the dragged Robison away. Shaking her head, she dropped off to sleep.