Did you ever read about the thoughts and the feelings of a girl in coma? Well, now you will. Lisa is in coma.


1. Fourteen years old, a month in coma.




A hand holding my face. It's my mother.   

"Good morning Lisa, how are you? And... Happy Birthday! Yes, today is your fourteenth birthday! Aren't you happy?"     

My fourteenth birthday. I count. For a month I have been like this: in coma. A month since the accident. A month since life and death started arguing for my soul.  

My family comes here, in hospital, every day. The doctors told them they can talk to me, touch me because I can hear and feel everything. That's true.     

My mother sighs. I can feel she is really unhappy since she hasn't got a normal daughter anymore.      

I hear another pair of footsteps entering the room. No, two pair of footsteps.  Could it be my dad and sister?  

"Happy Birthday Lisa!!!" Yes, it's them: my dad and my younger sister, Dani. They've got a present for me. Roses. They let me feel the perfume. So good.     

The roses remind me of the day of the accident.      

I was in the car with Beatrice, my older sister. She had recieved roses from her boyfriend and she had told me to keep them until we arrived home. I was invaded by their scent. So good. I clearly remember their red colour. Their petals created a red spiral. They had green leaves and thorns. They were perfect. Beatrice's roses were the last things I saw. Then the road, that crazy car, the bump. Me and Beatrice were catapulted forward and I remember bumping my head against the window while clutching the roses and hurting myself with their thorns. Beatrice was dead. I was in coma.      

I have never seen light since that day.     

Beatrice was my sister, my friend, my teacher.      

She was my light.

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