Chapter Eight

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It has been three days of routine. Three days of learning how to swallow, and breathe, and live with a tracheostomy. A tube that allows me to breath. It is amazing actually. I am not complaining that this little tube has been given to me so that I may live. I am truly thankful that I was caught right as I had stopped breathing, and that this little tube can give my lungs the fake confidence they needed to keep me alive.

But crap does it hurt.

I have been visited only by Lilly the past few days, who informs me that she was trained to deal with things like this before she came here. She is kind to me, still trying to make up for willing me to run. I do not blame her. There is nothing in my heart that makes me resent her for giving me that rush of hope that pushed me to run along side her to Titus' office. It was the highlight of my time here so far. I keep telling her that it is okay to take risks sometimes. And it is okay to almost die because of those risks.

I am not going to lie, I have missed food. I have consumed broth, but that would have to be the most substantial food I have eaten. I feel the improvement, however. I feel my lungs becoming stronger, and I feel my body adapting to its surroundings. Lilly has been keeping me company by explaining to me what has happened government-wise while I was dead. She says that we have a president, still, though he is more of a monarch now. He is the king without the proper title. We still have the whole get-up. Congress men, secretaries of which ever, and representitives. But they are just making sure the president gets what he wants at this point. But Lilly says that everyone loves it. Everyone loves the monarchy, and that our president is a good one. He knows what he is doing. Lilly hints that he claims he is being lead by God every step of the way, which more than half of America's population actually believes. Lilly tells me that she thinks so to. I smile. I cannot remember if I was a Christian or not. But I do think I could be. Something about the idea of someone dying and being raised to life for me, pleases me. The idea that there is a God that cares for me, and is looking down on my every move comforts me. But, I do not know.

"Hello!" Lilly says bursting through the door excitedly. I sit up and smile.

"Why the excitement, Lilly?" She looks at the ground for a second, and then jumps on the the bed beside me.

"You get your tacheostomy off today!" I beam.

"REALLY?" I almost squeal. She nods her head vigorously. "Well? What are you waiting for? Take it off of me!"

"It isn't that easy." She laughs. "I will have to put you to sleep."

"Of course you will." I sigh, and lie back down onto my bed.

"Come on now, we're excited, remember? After I get it off, I will wake you up, and guess what we get to do then?"

"What?"

"We get to get you all dressed up!! Dr. Finley wants you to look your absolute best because he is going to have a video chat with the President!" My mouth falls open.

"No way," I let out in a half-whisper, half-sigh. She nods again, her dreads falling to her shoulders. She takes out a syringe, and I let her ease it into my arm.

I fall asleep with a smile full of anticipation.

~~~

"Oh my gosh. Definitely." I twirl in a dress that Lilly picked out for me. It is a lovely nude color, with a piece of gold shimmery fabric that folds over my right shoulder, and is held there by a gold chain that wraps around my waist. My hair is in a bun, with a cluster of golden flowers in the middle of it. We did the best we could to cover up the scar with makeup, but it still shone through the layers of foundation we piled onto it, but it looks much better than the purplish blue color it usually looks like. I have what Lilly called 'winged eyeliner' around my eye, and a bit of mascara, but as far as makeup goes; that's it. My green eyes sparkle up against the dress and the makeup, and I almost look attractive. I pull my hand up to my mouth, and my eyes fill with tears.

This is what I want.

To be beautiful.

Every girl wants to feel like a princess, and though I am Death's exception, I am no exception the that rule. And for once, I feel like one. I feel like one that happened to be born ugly, but that's okay. Because I am not my looks, I am a princess.

"I have come for Rory-" Titus face relaxes quite a bit at the sight of me. Like what he is seeing is pleasing, and that he could stare at me all day. I blush. "Or should I call you Aurora?" He says, flabbergasted. I giggle, flattered beyond words.

"Rory." I correct. He smiles sweetly, and holds out his arm.

"Shall we go meet the president?"

"Oh, absolutely." I loop my arm through his, and he starts to escort me through the halls. I enjoy it. I enjoy watching the scientist's face. Some are proud, others surprised, and even more are in awe. I am on my way to represent their life's work. And I would be lying if I told you that I am not feeling a bit prideful.

"The president is a good friend of mine. He is the one who gave me permission to drink alcohol before the age limit." I laugh outloud.

"What?" He blushes.

"Yeah, I asked him. I told him if I got drunk I would revoke the rule."

"How does he know you will?" He looks at me as if I have the audacity to doubt his morals.

"Despite what you saw yesterday, I do not lie, Rory Destiel." I grin and accept it. We get to his office, and Titus has to hold me back from walking straight in. "You have to wait until cue. He is going to say, 'and here is the beauty herself'. Dr. Finley likes a show." Titus presses his ear to the door. "Yes. Mmhm. He is just explaining the science bit, now. Okay... NOW!" I walk into the room, and immediately I see a giant monitor holding an image of who must be the president. I smile, the dimple on my cheek bigger than ever. I am proud.

I am-

"Rory?!" I look at the monitor, and see a man. About Thirty-three, with a headful of brown hair, and eyes full of raw horror. Terror creeps up his face as he stumbles backward, almost knocking over the flag positioned behind him. I stare back blankly.

How does the president know me!?

"You- I didn't know-" He turns to Dr. Finley. "You resurrected HER?! She died when I was seventeen. I was heartbroken- I-" Dr. Finley was staring at me, with a confused face. "Rory, do you remember me?" I shake my head, too stunned to talk.

"Oh my gosh, Rory. We were- you were my girlfriend."


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