Cynthia's story

Up till this moment, she scanned the area, doubting if her decisions were correct. The murmurs of agony from patients, the apathetic (couldn't care less) doctors tending to the patients, and afterwards a whoosh of a clear and foggy liquid. That was it. Right after that, she would leave.

Doctor. Feldstein was her doctor. He was Jewish and had an affinity for smiling those large smiles right before an operation. Mostly, she thought without remorse.

The room she was in had several pamphlets, and she read each one. There was one about pregnancy she found interesting. It talked about several ways of contraception and birth control and described adoption methods.

"Remove your garments," Doctor. Feldstein instructed earlier.

It was a request that every doctor would give to someone at some point. And a request that every patient had to perform more than once.

She took off her clothes, starting with her shoes and ending with her blouse.

"Can I come in, Cynthia?" the doctor knocked on the door.

'I'm ready. You can come in," she replied.

"On the off chance this is unsuccessful, we are not liable to your family members, friends or relatives. Understood?," he said.

"Yes, doctor,” she said, faking a smile, as she stared towards the machine, letting hope and happiness be her only thoughts.

Dr. Feldstein shut the metal handle delicately, and a puff of white steam got away through the cracks. The coldness danced, stamping parts of her body with red. At that point, it moved between her fingers, and to her legs, along with her nose; it was all over and she had felt nothing but numbness and solitude.

Her bare skin freezed, and she thought she would die. But not that; it was a more simple truth: Everything continued for Everyone else, but it paused for her.

Cynthia's family members thought of her as dead. They treated her as dead. Where she was wasn’t a safe sanctuary, it was a burial with piles and piles of heavy dirt on top, stopping her from coming outside and into the real world. They missed her, and censored what she did as suicide, not as a pleasant future where cars flew, technology unhinged, and peace was successful.

No, that definitely wouldn't happen. It couldn’t happen.

Humans can quicken death, never slow it down. It was pointless to delay the inevitable. Death is apart of life, slowly encompassing all of us, never discriminating.

Right after the operation, they talked to Dr. Feldstein. Her mother, Becky Gates, decided to be a representative of this very distasteful, unpalatable meeting.

“Hello, Dr. Feldstein, ” she said as she walked into the room, noticing the pamphlets and the vast array of blue, white, and black gloves, causing her to decide how or when she should get them, not steal them. According to her, she would simply be borrowing them.

"Hello, Ms. Gates." he replied, "We told your daughter: we are not liable to your family members, friends or relatives. If any problems persist, or if you do something with the patient, we could file a lawsuit. Understood? She signed a contract, you know. She is an adult. A whole 16 years "

"Yes, I do know, Doctor. I came here for a completely different reason though. Can I see her?."

"You may but someone will be monitoring you."

"Who?."

"My assistant, me, and the cameras. If any illegal action ensues, there will be a punishment"

As soon as she walked towards the freezer, this thought ran through her mind: My little girl is alive.

Cynthia looked well and fine. She appeared stable. Without any background knowledge, it simply looked like she was sleeping, dreaming a dream filled with delight. Because of the stories she use to tell her, the stories that kept them up all night.

"Do you know why she did this?"

"I cannot tell you why even if she told me, miss. Doctor's confidentiality. Honestly, if I had to infer and speculate, she did this because it's a once in a lifetime opportunity. We're one of the newest cryogenics factories, and our technology may be the most promising. I know this is a fairytale joke people say nowadays, but I pray for your daughter.¨ He had this confident look, but the stuff he said didn´t sound confident to her.

All of her memories with Cynthia started coming back, as soon as he said this. Did she cause this behavior? Was it her fault? She knew all of her daughter´ś activities: skating, spanish, and surprising others. Lively, full of spirit, always trying new things. Completely different from her life of teaching that every female in her family did, settling in a way. She knew all of these things about her daughter, but all she could do was tell, and not show that she knew these things.

The day before, she and Cynthia, were together: mother and daughter. Her love was strong like a tiger´s grasp, she liked to say. Although her love was strong, Cynthia´s soul was bewitching, pulling like the Sun's gravitational pull. Change that, it was more like a black hole. The way she walked, talked, and moved around. Yes, it was bewitching to most, but she was a dreamer.

She always said "I want to be somebody." and "Can´t we go somewhere today?.¨ Those two things were what defined her. She always wanted to go to the movies, and often got mad at her or Dad, for being boring. Forrest Gump said ¨Life was a box of chocolates." She wanted to take them all.

On the other side of the room, Cynthia stared at her mother. They were both drinking coffee. They both drank it black. For her, it was because of sugar reasons. For Cynthia, it was because of teenage reasons. Cynthia sipped it slowly, and every time she drunk coffee, she always liked it exotic, sweet, and earthy, never from StarBucks.

The taste reminded Becky of a time where she drunk coffee with sugar, whipped cream, and other delicious things. To the core of her being, she disliked this. You could say it was the bane of her existence. She could drink sweet & low. But then what would be the point if she used more than four packets? Cynthia licked her tounge out, rubbing it with her hand, showing that it was burnt.

Becky looked towards and said sweetly "Are you okay, Princess? I should have went somewhere else for the coffee? Barnes & Nobles, uh, was overstacked with not only books, but people too."

"Yeah, you should have." Cynthia said plainly. ¨Ï like my coffee hot, but not too hot. Sweet, but not too sweet. A little image there and there. Maybe a balloon. It has to be special, a design crafted by intelligent human hands. Not from Barnes and Nobles. The books there are already too expensive; everyone should go the library since it helps the community as a whole. Don´t you agree mom? Also, can you stop calling me princess? I liked that when I was a little girl; I´m a big girl now"

"Yeah, I totally agree. Your birthday is tomorrow. What do you want?"

"I have 1 less year to live, thanks for reminding me. What I said earlier, not true. Sorry, mom. I know I get on your nerves sometimes. I always like my coffee iced, liquid nitrogen, iced. So that way it can be okay even when it gets hot. So that way it's preserved and I can drink it later."