I hope you all enjoyed this new feature as much as I did! Your wild imaginations made for a great story line! To read the completed tale you all helped create, read more
As I saw her walking through the Starbucks' door, my heart started to pound and my hands started to sweat. Did she really do it? Did she shave her head? While we all knew her hair would eventually fall out, I never expected her to shave her head before she even started treatment. She's so courageous, marching around town with a shaved head. I mean, I would hide it behind a Missoni head scarf or something. I can't believe she actually has cancer and she is dealing with it in such an admirable way. I've known her all my life and I can't confront it the way she has. What would I say? Nice new look? How's facing death? Before I had time to think, she spotted me, trotted over, and said you know what? It's all an act. I hate my job, I'm sleeping with my boss, and I didn't know how else to get out of going to work. How do I get out of this big hole I dug for myself? "With a wig, apparently" I said as I tried to process the information she just divulged. "I had no idea you were so vain and sleeping with your boss, Clay Aiken. You're going to have to retire from being his backup dancer unless you can figure out what's actually going on in this story that seems to make sense."
She gave me a strange look and then suddenly I awoke, in a panic. I was alone in the middle of an an abandoned warehouse with a huge bruise on my throbbing head. A blinding light shone on me and then he bangs on the table and shouts " TELL ME" "TELL ME, I KNOW YOU WHERE THEY ARE KEEPING IT" And, "CUT", yelled the director. I immediately sat up from the warehouse set floor where I was lying. "Tell me," the director said, "what were you thinking when you were having the bad dream?" "Oh I made this crazy story up about a friend of mine having cancer, and than sleeping with Clay Aiken it was really odd motivation for this scene I know..."
"Well whatever works! You were wonderful!" Watch out Lindsay and Mischa, there's another starlet on the block. Boy deciding to take this movie role about the scarred, raped, and tortured girl was sure starting to pay off. I mean just this morning before shooting began I was having my doubts about this. Before I moved out to LA, people always told me to be skeptical of criminals posing as "movie producers", waiting to take advantage of wanna be starlets hoping to be discovered. I'd heard horror stories of women being abused and taken advantage of. Thinking of those stories, a chill creep ed up my back. I looked around and realized I was alone in a warehouse with men I'd just met yesterday. I wondered if I'd been just a little too taken with their constant flattery to realize that I, too, could be a potential victim. Maybe I should have signed a contract, I thought to myself as I remembered Brad Pitt was my co star and realized that I didn't really care if there was a signed contract! Besides, hes flirting with me lots and this is my one chance to be the huge glamorous film star I've always wanted to be. I cant back out now! I've just seen that huge mansion I want to buy in the Hollywood Hills, the one that is next door to Health Ledger and Michelle Williams. I mean think about it: I'll ask Jen from Dawson's for butter while I'm baking, how fabulous! Now on to what needs to get done: hair and makeup! As I walked back to my trailer enjoying the brisk morning air I noticed that there was a note taped on my door with my name written across the front. Excitedly wondering what it said, I peeled it off and carefully opened it because it looked like the paper itself was worth a mere million dollars. "You looked beautiful on set today," the note read. I stared at it and wondered who it was from because the note wasn't signed and there was no name inscribed to the back of the note like most exec's here in Hollywood...not even a fingerprint!
Suddenly my dressing room door jerked open almost hitting me in the face, and Michelle leaned out to say "watch out!!" . At that moment, I was struck from behind by crew members riding in a golf cart. The next thing I remember was waking up in my hospital bed and my head was throbbing AGAIN!. My room was filled with flowers from all of my adoring fans and two guards were blocking the paparazzi from taking pics. When I looked up, there was a young, handsome doctor standing over me. With a concerned look, he leaned down, took my hand and said it's bad news-- you have to have a brain transplant but before we start can I have your autograph, my sister would kill me if I didn't get it, plus it would be worth a lot in time since you are the first actress in Hollywood to have such major surgery, apart from Micheal Jackson of course! "Yes, of course". I signed my name and handed back his clipboard. Just then my mother burst through the door and screamed ...... DARLING!! What are you wearing?!? And OK, OK. Yes. I was playing the part of a hooker. But it's a great paying job and an incredible experience and Julia Roberts did it and look where it got her.
I guess my mother wasn't used to seeing me look so grown up. I hadn't seen her since last Christmas when she invited herself to spend the holidays with me and my wonderful boy friend. sadly, after a week with my mother, my boy friend was no longer my boy friend. Now here was my dear mother playing fashion police and Emily Post when I needed Florence nightingale. My head was throbbing, my vision was blurry. Was that my mother!? or was it my ex-lover from college, you know, when I was experimenting? Who can tell right now. Did that doctor really say a brain transplant? Did I sign on to star in a daytime soap opera and not realize it? I just needed to shut my eyes and think, and make this throbbing stop. As I slowly opened my eyes I noticed another note similar to the one I had found on my trailer door right before the golf cart accident. I used all of my energy to pick up the beautiful paper and slide it open. My eyes blurred as I tried to read what was written, focus I told myself. I blinked and the writing became clear. It said 'Even bruised from the accident, you are beautiful. I will be waiting for you after surgery.' The note was again unsigned. Who could possibly be waiting for me? I thought. Who knew of the accident? My head hurt too much to think. I laid back and closed my eyes. That's when I felt a hand run down my chest and something cold placed over my heart. What was going on? I opened my eyes and saw my doctor. Dr. Derek Shepard. He asked me to breathe in slowly because he was making sure my lungs and heart were OK. He spoke softly and said "Meredith will you tell Izzy that she needs to scrub in on this?" Wait what did I just hear? Meredith? Izzy? Dr. Shepard? This isn't real! There's no way I am a patient on Grey's Anatomy. I shot up out of what was apparently a deep 4 minute sleep and realized I was in an empty hospital room and had horrible pain in my back and head from moving so abruptly. I groaned and gingerly lowered myself back onto the bed. As I lay there, head throbbing as though it had continuously throbbed since this whole debacle began, I began to panic. How much of what had happened in the last few days was real? How much of it was a delusion? Had it even been days? For all I knew, it could have been hours or months.
Just as the first stinging tears threatened to trickle down my cheeks, I heard a footstep in the hall. I froze. Who could it be? Will it be the nurse with syphilis, or George? No, this is crazy. I can't be on Grey's anatomy. The footsteps stop, and there is a shadow in my doorway. I say "hello?" but I realize I have no voice! What if I need to scream? What if i need to ask for help? My heart is pounding like a 5 year old with a drum set, and then the person emerges from the hallway. I gasp because my asthma had kicked in. I looked over to my window and noticed a lovely, flowering tree outside accompanied by the grating sound of a lawn mower. I said, to myself, "yay, allergies!" because remember, I can't talk. And now I can't breathe. I want to laugh because really, if I separated myself from my situation it's funny to see how powerless I am when just two months ago I had gotten to level 99 on my favorite video game. But anyway, the person that had walked in told me she wanted to give me a sponge bath. I looked closer and realized she was the person who had been writing me notes all day. I was right, all the nerves about not signing the contact, after going through this nightmare of a day... well it was all worth it when I realized it was my co-star writing me those notes, waiting for me in the hallway, and most importantly, waiting to give me a sponge bath! I waved him in the the rest in history!