God, I hate that smell... The smell of death and disease portrayed by sanitation. The lights are vivid with life yet the halls and the rooms are dark and cold. The atmosphere is filled with tension and fear, not just this room... all of them.
Why am I here? That question lingers in my head like smoke from a cigarette. I’m fine, I swear! Leave me alone! The words don’t stop the puppets behind the mastermind of this operation, their cold hands touching, poking. Little, rapid footsteps scurry in the halls. In the next room, there are screams of terror.
The devices beep a smooth, slow remedy in the background suggesting life. I’ve been to these wretched places before but never for me. The familiar, “Miss, please, we just need one more test...” their voices sound sincere but their faces show no sympathy. Why am I here? The pain of ice cold stares along with the IV full of God knows what pumps through my veins. The room is dark if you’d call it a room, the fluorescent lights do nothing to brighten the mood. This was supposed to be a place of safety, promising life. There are fast voices outside the door, all I hear is gibberish.
A frantic, tear-filled woman sits in the corner of the room, she stares intently to make sure I do not run away from this chaos. The interior walls decorated beautifully with pictures of rural Montana, they are unnoticed by the people who enter. Questions! Never ending questions, “On a scale of one to ten, blah, blah, blah.” Their words increase the tension, like a rope with a weight on the other end; JUST BREAK ALREADY! I’m too young for this, I’M FINE!
Five words snap this tension, “Your body if failing you.”