My grandparents had written their will and, split amongst the seven of us, the greatest portion of their estate had been given to Jarrod. But Jarrod was Jonathan, I knew that. No one could understand it, my dad most of all, and I remember feeling negatively. Then all things shifted. I was in a hospital bed with intravenous tubes, one in my hand below the knuckles and the other in my solarplex. My chest began to increasingly hurt and become uncomfortable. My family was gathered just beyond my bed talking casually. My cousin looked over to me a few times. I turned to the nurse to tell her the needle in my chest was becoming unbearable. And I knew it was time to take them out. The one in my hand slipped out, though I didn't look at it, but the one in my chest became detatched from the tube. The needle itself was lodged in my solarplex, buried deep, like a successful stake. I remember panicing a bit but the doctor, who was actually my managers manager at work, took a thin metal rod with a square ending and began to push at the edges of the needle in my chest. Slowly the skin loosened around the end of it and she picked at it with her thumb and index finger. She pressed it down, and I felt it move inside me. She pushed it up, and it slowly came out further. Then, very cautiously she pulled the stake out of my chest. It was a dull gold, and no longer a needle but almost a tooth or fang. Immediately after, blood and a clear substance shot out of my chest and onto my white shirt, which I was now wearing. My family was alarmed and paniced a bit, but I was calm and calmed them. Blood and that clear substance covered me and my shirt, but I sat upright on the bed as they began to leave the room. My cousin waved to me, and my lolo, from my moms side made a gesture towards the mess my open wound had made exclaiming, "mess, what a mess". I remember thinking of what to do next or what to want next, but as I did, my grandparents, my fathers parents, came to my bedside. They were the last ones in the room. My lola sat by my bed, and my lolo came and lay down beside me. I began to cry. Because I missed them, and I knew they loved me. As I woke up I was crying, and I lay there in bed, crying. It felt so good to cry, at probably 6:30 am, half an hour before my alarm would go off.