A secret society? This isn't some weird thing like the Illuminati, is it? Why would the government not know about it? Why does the society not want them to? Is it illegal? How illegal are they? Are they a bunch of gang members just looking for a victim to kill? Could I be that victim? Why am I a part of it? What if I don't want to be a part of it? Was I born into it? Do I get a say if I don't want to be in it?

     All these thoughts race through my mind. It's all I can think of. They're like a car race, and there's a five-way tie for first place right now, or a swarm of thrifty shoppers rushing through opening doors for a mega sale.

     In the background, Dr. Thomas is telling me something, but I don't pay attention to it. All I get from him is mumbling. It kind of sounds important, but I still don't bother to listen. How can there be a whole society no ones knows about, not even the government?

     After it seems like he's finished, my parents run into the room like frantic monkeys. My attention shifts to them when they yell, "Anne, honey, are you all right? It's us. Do you know who we are?" Of course I know who they are; they're my parents. Why would I forget them? How would I forget them? I don't have brain damage, do I?

     "Yea," I say, pointing to my mom and dad, "you're my mom and you're my dad."

     I stare at my dad for a few seconds, examining his brown hair and eyes as blue and bright as mine, with his tall stature slouching and his shoulders slumped in his yellow button-up T-shirt with a black tie that has been tossed to the side of his torso.

     "Oh, thank goodness," Mom exclaims, turning to Dad. "She remembers us."

     Dr. Thomas says he's going to give us some time alone and walks out of the room, and I look over to my parents. Should I really talk to them about this now? I'm in a hospital bed, about to tell some obscure story that people definitely won't believe, but I know for a fact it's true. They're gonna think I've lost my mind. Someone gets shot and doesn't bleed and, to top it all off, has the holes shrink up by themselves in only a few hours. They're gonna think I'm in need of some serious medical attention, or that I'm just a little loopy from the drugs this hospital keeps stuffing me with. Should I approach them this soon, in this environment? I can do it at home tonight when everyone's in a calm setting with a calm mood, as calm as possible. It'd be much easier like that.

     Well, what if I don't have enough time when I get home? I'm gonna have to make up for the work I've missed from the classes after lunch, if they even had class in session. Am I even gonna have to go back to class? I was just shot, and now I'm walking around like nothing's ever happened. Yea, I don't think people are gonna let that go. If I don't show up, people are going to start thinking I died, so I have to go back. What will my cover-up story be for having the bullets unfaze me? It has to be somewhat believable. Maybe if I say it was my adrenaline that kept me going, they won't question it. Yea, that sounds like it could fool the majority of my classmates. I just need to come up with a story for the people who are gonna talk. I don't need to worry about the smart ones who'll figure it out. They're too quiet. I look over to my mom and dad and just stare at them for a moment. Am I going to tell them here, now?

     I hesitate for a moment before finally saying, "Mom, Dad, I need to ask you a question."

Hayo y'all so yell me what you think.
This book is now apart of a competition so, if you liked it, don't forget to like, comment and follow.