We all have secrets

- Well, this is awkward. - I am re-writing this so it makes more sense (probably will just make it worse) because my grammar was terrible and my ideas were rubbish.

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2. -

WE ALL HAVE SECRETS

 

My life was once what you might call normal,

but now it's gone.

 

My eyelids felt heavy as I tried to peel them apart. The darkness was thick and seemed to seep through. As I breathed in I smelt chemicals and the overall 'clean' feel.
My mouth was dry, but that didn't make me wake up. My body felt heavy, really heavy as if my hands were being held down by weights. My mind froze, I was in a hospital.
Am I sick? Am I badly injured? Am I dying?
I couldn't be dying, I'm only fourteen years old. Yet my brain felt smashed in little pieces trying to fit the jigsaw of why I'm here back together. Why was I at a hospital?-It must be important.
I flinched at the thought.
I moved.
My eyes flickered as the brightness of the boring white walls hit me.
I was lying alone in a room so bright it seemed to scare me.
I slowly looked around, almost dreading the thought. There were no heart monitors or a little table covered in get-well soon cards, which I wasn't sure was worrying or not.
I sat up.
Dizziness clouded over me like birds in a cartoon. This isn't good. I pressed both of my feet on the floor and held myself up shaking and very slowly moved towards the small pinned-up mirror on the wall a couple feet away from my bed.

Holy-

My mind saw my face as a toy for knives. It was full of half-healed scratches, bruises and faint blood marks. My eyes looked slightly drowsy, even though I had just woken up. My fingernails were stubs covered in picked at black nail varnish and my neck and wrists were just plain red.
       I was still staring at my bashed-up face when the door opened slowly. "Hi." The girl said softly as if she was nervous. She walked in and stood next to me. She also had similar marks, though none on her neck and not as bad on her wrists. "Who are you?" I asked sitting back down on the edge of my bed.
"It's me, Chantelle. You feeling okay?" She asked alarmed. I shook my head slowly saying to myself remember...remember...remember- but still nothing. "Why am I here?" I asked with a slightly shaken voice, knowing that she would know. "I don't know how to tell you....." She trailed off, seeming almost scared to speak it.
"Was it really that bad?" I asked trying not to lose my mind over how terrible it could be.
"Yeah.." She trailed off again.
There was a sudden knock at the door, it opened nearly hitting the wall. A woman wearing mint green scrubs came in.
"Good morning." The nurse said brightly. "How are you feeling? Want some fresh air?" She talked in a kind way, but the kind of way you would talk to your cat in a higher tone.
"She can't remember anything." Chantelle suddenly spoke up.
"You can't?" She seemed panicked. "I need to tell you something, but there's no point if she can't remember." The nurse seemed stressed.
"What is it?" Chantelle asked slowly, worried about the answer. 

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