I shoot up from sleep and there's a lot of surprise in the room. There's a shooting pain in my arm and I scream out in the sudden rush of pain. "Lie down!" A doctor says, rushing to my side. I subconsciously lay my head against my white fluffy pillow, still wincing of the pain. The doctor hands me some pills and I take them without question with my good arm. He then proceeds to check out my alleged wound.
"Grab the king and queen!"
I pause for a second before processing the fact that he was calling for Maxon and America. It sounds like he's calling for my parents, which makes me feel even more uncomfortable than I already am. The emissary comes back while my mind is swimming in thoughts, followed by Maxon and America. They both have a worried look in their faces, but they are trying their best to conceal it by smiling.
"You okay?"
"Well it's hard to say I'm okay if I don't know what happened."
I say like a diva.
"You haven't told her?"
America says to the doctor.
"N-no your Highness, I th-thought you would prefer to tell h-her."
The doctor says nervously. He pushes his glasses up a bit on his nose. First day on the job, I suppose?
"Oh Dr. Telegen, and all of you present, call me America."
She says extremely casually.
"Would Mrs. Schreave work?"
Dr. Telegen says. America shrugs, and Maxon is grinning.
"Oh! Can someone just tell me?! I don't care who tells me, just someone, tell me what happened! "
I shout in outrage. Everyone seems surprised by my outburst, especially with my well wrapped arm.
"Kriss, settle down." America tries to console me but I'm too worked up now to be consoled with kind words.
"I'm not weak. Do I look like I'm weak?"
America seems a little concerned and searches the room for help. Maxon steps away from her and towards the door. So much for a good husband. Her concern turns to quick anger, being the short tempered one. She shoves Maxon, obviously mad, and storms out my room. Everyone stands in silence.
"So...? Is anyone going to tell me?"
Maxon steps up and finally, after fifteen minutes, decides to tell me.
"We found you, uh, on the ground at the front of the palace, with a huge hashing wound on the side of your left arm. After some questioning, we found out that a palace guard thought you were a rebel and shot you unconscious. There's stitches in your arm so careful how you use that left arm... Your departure will probably be postponed."
I'm genuinely confused. I remember being outside, having a fuzzy memory of seeing Maxon and America outside and hiding behind the bushes... But I don't remember anything else.
"So when can I leave?"
"That's to be determined. Your arm needs to be fine in order to depart."
"I'm fine."
I say, moving it. I immediately regret my decision, but I stop myself from crying out in pain and wince instead.
"See?"
Maxon points out. I sigh. I really want to leave this horrid place. I lie down, thinking that'll drown out the sound of the hustling and bustling around me. Smart, Kriss, like that's going to help. I close my eyes. I imagine myself at home. I imagine myself before the Selection. Nothing comes into my head... And then I realize that I've changed too much to think of myself before the Selection. I've become too involved in my past. In fact, I'm dying in my past.
YOU ARE READING
A Selection Ever After
Fanfiction(COMPLETED) Kriss and America were the last ones left in the Selection. Kriss was sure she was going to win, but was dumbfounded when she wasn't chosen. Read Kriss's point of view on after the Selection and how her life had changed when she went ba...
