Act 1

When I woke up I was in what looked like a hospital room and I could see my mother there. When she saw that I was awake, she became very happy, hugged me and called my father, who was outside.

That's when I met the doctor and his assistant. The doctor was an older, white-haired man, while the assistant was a young boy who didn't look old enough. He was thin and clumsy and wore a Red Cross pin, something I had only seen on stage.
I had undergone a series of tests and they seemed determined to help me. I concluded that they were both good people.

I remember that several days had passed since I arrived at the hospital, and with each passing day I became weaker, to the point where I needed help with everything. I couldn't get out of bed and my parents had to help me get into the wheelchair and do basic things like feed me and bathe me.

Another thing my parents did was try to cheer me up whenever they saw me, but in the state I was in it was hard to be optimistic. I spent the days wondering what I was going to do in my current state. How could I dance and act like Camille when I needed help with everything? My dream had been taken away.

But my nightmare was about to begin.

One day my parents and the doctor took me to another room in the hospital. Inside was a dark chamber with large tanks on either side. The doctor's assistant opened the door and a cold breeze came out, first cooling my feet and then spreading throughout my body, making me shiver. I felt irrational terror.

"It's OK, dear. You'll be fine," my father said, trying to calm me down after seeing my reaction.

But my nightmare was just beginning.

One day, my parents and the doctor took me to another room in the hospital. Inside was a dark room with large tanks along the sides. The doctor's assistant opened the door and a cold breeze came out, first cooling my feet and then spreading throughout my body, causing me to shiver violently. I felt irrational terror.

"It's okay, dear. You'll be fine," my father said, trying to calm me down after seeing my reaction.

But it was hard to stay calm. Gradually, my father brought me closer to the chamber, while my mother, who seemed to have red eyes as if she had been crying, talked to the doctor at a counter filled with medications and a computer next to it. The doctor seemed to be giving her more details about the procedure that would take place that day. I could only catch a few words that led me to a conclusion: "Freeze, slow down the progress so we can..."

The doctor's assistant told me that I had to go into this dark and cold place.

"Is this another test?" I asked him.

"No, it's something different," the assistant replied, sounding unsure of what he was saying.

His answer made me suspicious of what I was about to go through. But I didn't have time to connect the dots because the doctor who had been at the counter was now standing next to me with a syringe in his hand.

"Will it hurt? Will I be okay?" I asked, worried.

He looked at me and I could see that his eyes were moist, but the tears seemed to be more from hope than anything else.

"You'll be fine," he said in a weak voice as he administered the injection.

They helped me into the chamber and closed the door. I felt a very claustrophobic sensation, and shortly after that I began to fall asleep. I saw through the glass that my parents were getting farther and farther away, until finally everything went dark and I fell asleep.