"Why do we need to go?" My dad asks.

     "What?" I say. Why do we need to go anywhere? Aren't we fine here?

     "Where will we go?" Mom peeps.

     "I'll explain later," Dr. Thomas says through gritted teeth. "Just follow me."

     I unplug the IV from my hand and toss the wire on to the ground to leak out whatever was in there. A tiny red dot takes the place of the needle, and it feels as if it's still in there, stabbing my muscle. After a quick hop off the bed and a mad dash to get my stuff, I meet him and my parents at the door.

     The second I get there, Dr. Thomas sprints down the hall. We all try to follow him, barely managing to keep up with his pace. Man, why is this man so fast? Why won't he slow down? Every step brings me closer to a destination I know nothing about. My throat is running dry, my muscles are straining to keep me going, and I can feel every sharp breath come into my body, filling it with oxygen. Adrenaline flows through my blood and is the only thing sustaining me. I really need to get into better shape.

     Once we make our way down multiple hallways, we come to a bunch of stairs. Great. All this for a bunch of stairs.

     Panting, Dr. Thomas spins around and whispers, "From this point forward, we walk, but we got to do it fast." He pauses for a moment, checking every corner around us for something, but for what? Afterward, he goes back to his original spot. "We'll go to the roof where a helicopter will meet us there, then we'll go somewhere else as long as it's not here, but you guys are in danger."

     Why would we be in danger? Are we not safe here at a hospital? If we really are in danger—the terror in his face says it all—we need to get out of here.

     By hearing that, my pulse quickens, sweat pouring out of me more than it already has. I'm breathing but getting no oxygen. I can feel my lungs getting smaller every time I exhale compared to when I inhale, but I get nothing. My lungs long for the precious revival of life-providing oxygen. Before it can get any worse, I manage to get out, "Can't we take an elevator?"

     "Why?" Dr. Thomas asks, cocking his head.

     I can't handle it. No oxygen is coming into me, fulfilling me, keeping me alive. I collapse to the ground with my back against the wall and my head resting upon my knees, trying to catch my breath.

     "Great!" Dr. Thomas exclaims, slapping his hands to his sides.

     The room goes black and starts to spin, and a pair of hands wrap around me and swoop me up. I panic in someone's arms, but the person carrying me doesn't seem to be fazed. They trot along to the nearest elevator until I'm placed in a wheelchair. It's like I'm just a feather. During the whole ride to the wheelchair, my vision comes and goes. The world feels as if it's falling from underneath my feet, or back to, in this circumstance.

     After I'm rested in a chair and get my vision back, I calm down a little. Apparently, this is all in the midst of everyone rushing toward the elevator, turning corners, drawing attention to us. The wind ruffles my hair as we do it. It brings shock that we're running pretty fast for humans. How are we gonna get out like this? What if we get stopped?

     Finally, after for what seemed like five minutes, we get to an elevator and press the button. During the wait that seems to take forever, no one speaks. My parents and Dr. Thomas are all out of breath, so I try to give everyone a comforting smile. My parents acknowledge me, but Dr. Thomas doesn't. He just towers over me with his hands rested on my wheelchair handles. The elevator finally comes down to our floor, and we all cram in. I turn to face Dr. Thomas to see where we're going, but all I see is him pushing the roof button, not paying any attention to me. When we reach the roof, we're greeted by loud roaring and heavy winds.

     "Where have you guys been? You were suppose to be here five minutes ago!"

     I'm barely able to hear the man's voice.

     "Sorry! Had an emergency," starts Dr. Thomas. "The new one here had a panic attack."

     New one? Is he talking about me? Wait, he is. I did not have a panic attack. How dare he say that?

     We all hop in the helicopter after defeating high-intensity winds that seem to be a able to tip a car on its side and take off. I stare out the window until my dad breaks the silence. "Mind telling where we're off to now?"

Hayo y'all, so what did you think? Was it good, was, it amazing, or not? Tell me in the comments.
Don't forget to like, comment, and follow.
Sorry this is a filler chapter, I understand if you think it is bad.
Also I am wanting to start a hash tag where y'all can pass around.
#PrayForBelgium
Most of y'all must of heard about the attacks they had, and I was asking if y'all would pray for them and their families.
Also another note, ALMOST 200 READS YAY!!!!! To be honest I didn't think I would get this many reads.
Byez