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Empty room. The kind where you can hear raging echoes. Soon, moments fell into darkness and it became a dark empty room. I couldn’t see the ground beneath me. I couldn’t see anything before me. Just pure darkness. I began to hear a distant wailing coming from a corner of the room. It sounded just like a woman. A woman who was in severe pains. I couldn’t see her even if I strained my eyes and squinted into the deep, the wailing was the only thing I got. I must be mental thinking I would be able to see something or at least someone. The wailing took a different angle in the room, quite different from the first direction I heard it from. Could the person be moving? But I couldn’t see and I couldn’t figure out why.


My voice echoed but the wailing continued. One moment it felt like I was alone again. The wailing sounded so familiar I swear I could tag a name to it. But I couldn’t. My memory failed me at that moment so I couldn’t.

Who are you?”

No answer. I knew someone was there. Then the wailing started again.

What’s wrong?”

The person seemed so busy wailing that the person couldn’t hear what I was saying. The person couldn’t even stop to listen. My worry became how to leave this dark room but I couldn’t see a thing. I was tired of being ignored by this wailing person who seems like she had a lot to cry about today. The wailing took another angle of the room, this time louder. This time closer. I can feel myself dripping sweat but I was more upset about how I had to deal with this.

Stop wailing and tell me where to go if you can’t shut up!”


The wailing stopped. Finally some sanity creeping in. The quietness found a way to creep in with its loudness. All I could hear was myself breathing. Breathing deeply. It should be over. Stuck in obvious thoughts as to why I’m trapped in a quiet dark room was cut short when I felt a cool breeze on just my neck followed by the wildest rage of wailing. Startled out of my thoughts, I had no idea where to run. Just had plain instincts to run and not stop running. In full speed and fear, I didn’t have a minute to realize the ground right in front of me led to a large hole. It left me tumbling and tumbling until I fell off my bed in a thud. Soaking in sweat and scratching my head, I realized I was back in my apartment. Such a relief that it was a dream. I could feel goose bumps jump out of my skin because of the shock. I wanted to take a second to contemplate what just happened. Why did this wailing seem so familiar like someone I know or used to know? Reality struck hard when I remembered I had to get to work because I had a meeting with surgeons coming in from different countries and they would finally decide on who the head surgeon was going to be for St. Louis hospital, Minnesota. I rushed to get ready and make myself a quick coffee and at least cure this incredible headache that came from the fall. I live alone. No pets. Dark images flooded my subconscious as drops of water trickled on my hair from the shower. My head felt heavy. I rushed to get an aspirin out of the first aid box and some water from the kitchen tap to wash down the aspirin. My head feels heavier trying to get the aspirin down my throat. I hear the wailing again, like It crept into reality. I could feel my eyes roll up and blur out the images before me. Down on the floor I went.

I was having a seizure. I never do. But the shock must’ve prompted it.

That was all I could remember. Trying to take aspirin. My eyes spring open in shock and I’m in the hospital. Only that patient this time. I have a drip pipe connected to my hands which led to a drip bag hanging on a silver


stand. The room smelt like the familiar hospital smell that everyone hates with a touch of roses. I looked up realizing my sister was watching me.

Hey doctor, who has a hospital reservation today”

She was smiling so cheekily but I wish I could tell her about the dream. It was so upsetting that I couldn’t. I was finding it hard to talk because my throat felt dry.

Thank goodness I came over today because that seizure could’ve killed you”

What was hardest to process was when I started having seizures. I was the healthiest human you can think of. I barely ever fell sick, I always take my fruits and veggies lifestyle very seriously. I literally blend them into smoothies every evening. Only problem is I’ve been having issues sleeping well for over two months now because I’m a neurosurgeon and lately I spend my time researching rather than having actual conversations with people. I only enjoy talking to smart thinkers like people in my field. The amount of caffeine I’ve taken in just a month should be able to start a small coca cola factory.

My meeting! Does anyone remember that’s an important part of my day?

I was jaded by this entire experience of having to take health advice by my sister. She has no medical experience of any sort and therefore doesn’t understand the struggles. I can bet you a hundred dollars that 90% of her facts were gotten off of the internet. She is always sitting on her computer every single day so I shouldn’t exactly expect less from her. A college psychology major. What does she know about being a doctor? Deep down I’m shaking. Shaking about my weird dream. Shaking about the meeting I must’ve missed. She keeps talking and I’m certain I’m far from reality. Then I hear someone snapping her fingers close to my face and I

have to say that if anyone can pick a top shelf annoying thing to do to a person in my opinion is snapping fingers at my face.

Elena, are you listening? Hello…”

The snapping continues and I finally blink twice to let her know I’m back. I was preoccupied mentally so I had to take a quick trip to my depth of reasoning to see if it agrees that what is happening to me right now makes absolutely no sense. My male colleague walks in. I can feel my face turn red at him stepping in. This wasn’t the best way or position he should be seeing me. Maybe with a stethoscope and a high bun or maybe with a tight hair dress and my hair down. Either ways in my defense this is the most distracting thing I could think about.

He was the only person at work and entirely that always asked how I was notwithstanding I’m a doctor just like him.

It felt comforting that he came to see me. That he cared enough to check if I was okay.

Hey Elle. How are we feeling today?”

Did you hear him say we? I’m just checking to be sure I’m not the only one

who did. His words melted me into ecstasy.

He then waited for me to nod that I was okay before he went further to break the news about the meeting. He told me that someone else was selected to be the lead surgeon and would also be getting a huge pay. So much for 2 months of sleep missed that led to an obvious dead end.

Look Elle I know it’s pretty upsetting that this happened but I want you to know you’re an incredibly smart surgeon and I’ve seen you work so hard for what you want. Because they don’t see It doesn’t make you seem less smart”.


They believed in being early. On time. Never late. It was supposed to be me but because I had to be late or practically unable to attend based on health problems that are very much serious and not some lame excuse that people make up to skip work. But I’m admitted in the same hospital. I couldn’t figure out why everything hurt this way so apart from being frustrated physically and mentally, I am beyond bruised emotionally. This Is one of those moments I wanted to leave so bad but Jason, my colleague had to stop me from making the wildest mistake. Before I could say anything, the wailing was back. Almost like it’s flying all around me like a vulture circling around a corpse.

Of course the seizure came back.

It makes me sick. It makes me sick that I was not allowed to fall sick as a doctor or was not fit to be sick. It makes me sick that a job I’m fighting hard for makes me feel like the worst for working so hard and didn’t spare a minute to replace me. I’m sick of the meaningless sacrifices made for this just to end up in a pool of ridicule and pity. That is the last thing I need. But before I can be content with my current anger, I’m surrounded by deep darkness once again.

Oh no. not again.

My sister Camille and Jason were nowhere in sight. Slowly the wailing came creeping in again. Louder than the first. So close. Like being surrounded by concert speakers and I couldn’t hear myself. It came from all angles. I was trapped. I wanted to scream so badly. Then finally the voice spoke.

Help me. Please”

This was a nightmare. Before I could say a word or do anything, I drifted back to reality where I’m on skype with Camille. I thought I was in the


hospital a minute ago? I ask my sister what I’m doing here, video calling when we were just at the hospital.

No silly. We left the hospital like 4 days ago”

How could 4 days have passed so quickly. I could swear we were just at the hospital a minute ago? Did I forget? Am I hallucinating this?

Anyway what are you wearing for your date with Jason?”

Date with Jason? Is my sister making all this up? Am I making this scene up? What in the world is happening? She told me I agreed to go out with him to a restaurant downtown but I insisted on driving myself instead. I am unsure whether to be excited about this or worried. She also brought up me being excused from work until I was in a more suitable state. She wasn’t faking this was she? I needed to sleep to clear my head even if clearly I was upset about the nightmares but I was worried about how life was passing me by. I head to the kitchen to fix myself a smoothie and take some aspirin before I head to la la land or ni ni nightmare city.

Everything turned differently in the morning. I slept so well. I wanted to call Jason to cancel but with the way I felt better by morning, I was not missing this date for anything in the world. Soon it was evening, I found myself admiring my streak dress in my tall standing mirror. My hair running down when I let it out of my curler and my heels standing high. I was ready. I head to my car and play my favorite playlist while tapping on the steering wheel. Then someone honks at me loudly and the wailing comes again loudly. I didn’t think. I just let my hands off the steering wheel. I wanted to shut my ears without thinking but soon it led to a seizure.

The lights are switched on in the empty room. I see the wailer hurling up in a corner, this time sobbing. I walk toward her direction to touch her. She


startled me when she turned to look at me first. Wait. It was me. Then I see the tears flowing down her eyes.

Why didn’t you take care of me? Why didn’t you help me? Why didn’t you love me?”

I didn’t realize when tears came flowing down my cheeks. I was a doctor but I couldn’t save myself. I was in pain but I couldn’t help myself. I was lost but I couldn’t see myself. Nobody could. I was always too busy. Busy with my job and busy not being myself. I watched her remove a knife from nothingness and stab herself.


My reality came back in a flash. The last thing I saw was me crashing into a truck coming from the other lane. And that was it.

911. What's your emergency?

Hello can you hear me? My name is Elena. I’m hurt. Physically. I crashed into a truck in the middle of a seizure and there seems to be a lot of compression in the chest area I can barely breathe. If I don’t make It out alive, I need you to contact my sister Camille. Tell her I’m so sorry for leaving her so early and I’m sorry I never had enough days to spend time with her. I’m sorry for not spending the ones I had telling her how much I love her and how smart she is and it’s so weird how I never tell her. I’m so sorry for leaving her alone in this world. Contact Jason. Tell him I think he’s one of the most breathtaking individuals I’ve come across. My heart always beats twice as fast whenever I see him. It’s crazy how I couldn’t tell him all this earlier because I was scared It would ruin our friendship. Tell Elena I’m sorry for not loving her enough and picking my job over her. Over me. I wish I could take this all back. But knowing I can’t, I’m sorry. Hello? Hello can you hear me? Hello?


It was already too late. The time was up and I already knew my fate.

Nwokeke Munachiso is a 22 year old igbo born Nigerian from imo state. She is the 2nd child out of 2 in her family. She began writing at the age of 13 but took it as an obligation to begin a writing career at the age of 20 by pitching magazines and companies when she was still in the university. She studied economics but has a certain passion attached to business and writing. She intends to be more of a contemporary writer and a chartered accountant and to be published. 


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