We Can Sleep Now

Chapter 17

Beth's POV.

My wrist and ankles are bound by tight leather straps when I awake.

There is a cloth in my mouth that tastes like bleach and oil and I gag, my stomach in pain.

Crammin my neck upward I look around the room, swiftly shuttin my eyes tight when the harsh light hits them.

There is a slight squealin of wheels as a chair rolls up to my table.

"Beth, I know you may see this as bad but these are tests I need to run. Daryl has-" I scream, try to, but it is muffled by the cloth tied around my head, tears break the surface of my eyes as I struggle and the docter rolls his eyes.

"I don't want to have to drug you again." He says to me in a childish voice, as if I am his daughter who needs a time out.

"Listen, I just want to run a few of those tests we talked about at the hospital, and then you'll be free to go if you cooperate."

It sounded as if I'd be out of here in an hour, but I knew better.

"Can you do that?" He asks, I nod slowly, inside tellin myself I'd give him the hardest time with his tests.

"Okay, so the first test we are going to preform is a bone marrow functionality, to determine of your bones are basically as soft as a walkers." It sounded easy enough.

Then he pulled out a large needle from his desk and my eyes widened, I tried to lean away. The need was about the length of a forearm and the diameter of a dime.

"We don't have any prosthetics I can use, or else people might start asking where the resources are going," slowly he brought down the waist band of my sweat pants and goosebumps rose at the touch of his cold blue gloves.

"But you should know Beth you are contributing to the greater good of the world." My mind wanders back to dawn at the phrase and I want to try to not feel my body any longer, try to change stations.

His fingers smooth and mark indications on my thigh, so I start to think about Daryl's touch. And maybe he'd come visit me and save me from these tests.

Would any find out, I was sure as hell goin to tell them when it was done.

He must know that.
He must. He's going to kill you afterwards.

Pain spikes my leg, a stabbin pain that throbs and grows slowly into a large area of pain.

My back arches as I bite into the fabric, the needle probin in further.

I scream, I scream, scream it spreads every where this viscous pain splatterin along the insides of my body.

Its so concentrated, so intense, I beg for death, my lungs falterin.

Sweat dribbles down my face as he demands for my to stop moving or it with hurt more.

His and press my thigh onto the table, and its as if he beat on an already horrible bruise with a baseball bat.

I pass out, again.