I look out the window of my hospital room. The hospital room that had been my home for the last year of my life. Ever since I was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer. My only company had been doctors and nurses. None of my family had come to visit me. I don't blame them. I was an asshole to them. More concerned with partying, doing drugs, and drinking. If I didn't have the money to get any of that I would steal money or other things from them. So I don't blame them.
But my so called friends, I did in the beginning. They visited once, when I was first admitted. Even my so called girlfriend didn't visit. My only solace was watching TV. Especially my favorite show the 100. Watching how they started on the Ark, landing on Earth and all of the other adventures. Watching how Clarke would put everything on her shoulders. How she had true friends. Even if they didn't agree and for a bit they left each other's side, they would eventually work it out and stand by each other sides.
A pain shoots through my chest. I press the button that shoots morphine into my system. It helps a little. I start to cough. I put a tissue over my mouth and wipe away the blood that comes up.
I see a shooting star go across the sky. Even though it was cheesy, I made a wish. That I had a second chance. To have true friends who would stand by my side. Friends like Clarke who actually looked after everyone.
After my wish, I'm hit with a wave of exhaustion. My eyelids get heavy. I close my eyes and fall asleep.
When I open my eyes I'm no longer in my hospital room. I'm lying on a bed in a pure white room. The first thing I notice is I'm no longer in pain. In fact I haven't felt this good in a long time. I get up and look around.
That voice sounds familiar. I spin around and I see a person who can't be there. Bekka The First Commander. Bekka Primheda, Bekka Franco.
"I need your help.