Misplaced (Completed)

Chapter One

Chapter One

The first thing I realised when I opened my eyes: I was alive.

Yes my chest hurt, yes it would take weeks - maybe months - to recover properly, but I was alive. The second thing that came to my attention was that I was breathing...on my own. Looking around the small hospital room, a large smile worked its way onto my face.

I could see sunlight tentatively making an appearance through the window and blinds that attempted to shield it. The walls were covered in a dull white paint, but had scratches and marks over it in various places. Someone had even written 'I'm free, loser!' on the wall in a thick black marker. They clearly hated hospitals as much as I did. Having said that though, I think I hated them just a little less now.

Because the surgery had worked.

Right now, my heart - well someone else's heart, which is mine now - was beating rhythmically against my chest. I knew that the skin on my torso would be tender after the operation, but I still slowly raised a shaking hand and gently placed it over my new heart. I knew that it would take a few months to really determine whether it would work properly, but for now, I was happy.

In fact, I was so happy that I let out an annoyingly girly squeal. I was just so excited. Someone grunted beside me, capturing my attention. From the sound of the grunt, I expected my dad to be the one sitting there, but instead there was a boy. A boy who I had never met before.

He was sitting on one of the hospital's uncomfortable plastic chairs. His arms were folded and rested lightly on my bed, his head placed on top of them. His face was hidden from view, so all I could see was a mass of wavy black hair sitting in a random mess on top of his head.

Thank God my squeal didn't wake him up. It was the most embarrassing sound ever; even though no one heard it, I still found myself blushing. I shuffled around uncomfortably now that I knew there was a stranger asleep in my room. Torn between waking him up and letting him sleep, I decided to just ignore him and act the same as I would if he wasn't here.

So, basically, I just laid there. I let myself daydream for the lack of anything better to do. I should have thought ahead a little more, because right now, I was utterly bored. I began to swing my feet underneath the covers. The cool material felt nice and relaxing against my bare feet.

Every now and then, my ankle would click as I continuously rotated my feet. When my feet and bottom of my calves were aching, I switched to patting my hands against my thighs. I was never able to sit still for long.

The tapping was getting louder as time passed and I swung my ankles in time to the beat I had created. Next, I decided to hum the sound of a funeral march song, but speeding it up to match the pace of my composition.

Quite ironic in the choice of song, considering the surgery had saved my life, but it worked well.

"What the hell!"

I immediately stopped my makeshift music and twisted my head. My eyes slowly met with a pair of light grey ones. His eyes were so light that they almost reflected my own honey coloured eyes. I blinked myself out of my staring daze and took in the guy's entire face.

His thick, dark eyebrows were drawn low, shadowing over his eyes, which were shaded with a faint purple tinge, conveying his tiredness. Wrinkles appeared between them and on his forehead, with his light pink mouth pulled down into a frown. Someone was grumpy. It was only then that I realised that his grumpiness was completely focused on me.

I guess I should have been slightly more considerate of him. Ah well, it's too late now.

"Erm I..." I said awkwardly, forcing out a small smile. It was then that I remembered that I had been under for a few hours and was likely to have bad breath or have dribbled at some point. Not attractive.

Needless to say, he didn't smile back. However, he did reply, saying: "Hi." His tone was gruff and short, much like his sentence. His small mouth barely moved at all when he spoke and none of his other features moved an inch.

"If you don't mind me asking, who are you?" I said, feeling my eyebrows crease like a representation of his.

"It doesn't matter," he spoke bitterly. I was taken aback by his harshness. I only asked a simple question. Normally I wouldn't think twice about telling this guy to be more respectful and to stop being a turd, but I didn't think he'd appreciate my advice and I didn't want to make the situation any worse - or stranger - than it already was.

"Erm, okay," I said, holding my words in. I will admit that the situation was making me slightly nervous. It's not every day that you wake up with a stranger in your room. Though, I suppose it's a hospital, so it's not really my room; close enough.

I averted my eyes from the good looking dude and instead began drumming my fingers on the bedside table next to me. My long nails beat lightly against the desk, but it was loud enough to fill the room with some sort of sound, eradicating the silence that I found so suffocating. I quietly began to click my tongue to the rhythm of a horse trotting, as my other hand began to tap on my leg again. My head started to bob in time to my second composed symphony of the day.

"Will you please shut up?"

Instantly, I stopped all movement. I even held in my breath for fear of making any noise that would serve to annoy him. After a few seconds, when it became difficult to hold it for longer, I realised how stupid I was being. He couldn't hate me for breathing. That would be like hating me for being alive.

He leaned in close to me and whispered, "Listen up, Rosie." My mouth fell open slightly in shock, and just when I was about to ask him how he knew my name, he continued. "All I have to say to you is this: you better be bloody important to the world, seeing as someone died to keep you alive."

With that he stiffly stood up and strode over to the door. Wrenching it open, he walked out, not looking back once. It seems that he does hate me for being alive. How could someone with such an angelic face behave in such a devilish manner? And no one died to save me.

Did they?

Worry seeped into my pores. What if a member of my family had done something stupid? Surely they would have told me. Surely the doctors would have told me. I thought you couldn't give up your organs whilst still alive, especially not your heart. I swallowed thickly at the thought of someone actually dying for me. But it couldn't be true.

Could it?

Please don't forget to add this story to your public library so that you can be notified when there's updates!

So here's a new story I'm working on. It's the first I've done that consists only of romance and teen-fiction, so we'll just have to see how it goes. Let me know your thoughts on it via the comments section, or the vote button!  

Thanks for reading.