Runner

Runner: Part 5

I scrunch my nose as the strong smell of disinfectant wafts up my nose. I can see the faint bright lights of fluorescent bulbs behind closed eyelids. The steady rhythm of the heart monitor has become somewhat soothing and I feel like laying on this tattered mattress and laying under these thin sheets forever. I wish I could, because I don't think that I am ready to go back out there to face senseless people who don't even realize that they have recently gone through a Wipeout. I have been in this bed for two days straight and I don't even have to get up to use the washroom if I need to. The day I gained consciousness after the Wipeout, I was relieved to find out that the nurse who was to be taking care of me was the one who gave me the pink pill through the boy. I hear the click of the door handle and the nurse walks in with a bowl.

After closing the door behind her, she says, "I brought you some warm water... And something else."

When she says that, I sit up straight and flatten down my hair. I reach out my hand for the 'something else' and get impatient as she takes slow steps towards me on purpose. Finally, when she reaches me, she hands it to me. It's a note from the boy.

For the past two days, the boy and I have been communicating with each other through notes. The only way we get them to each other is through the nurse because she also takes care of the boys who have been hospitalized. The boy and I were only placed in the hospital because of our reaction- the severe headaches- to the Wipeout. From what we have both written to each other, we are quite sure that the officials are going to be keeping a close eye on us, because the nurse explained to us that no one else behaved the same way we did during the simulation part of the Wipeout. I hardly remember what happened, besides from the excruciating headache I had the whole time. I look down at the crumpled piece of paper in my hand and cautiously unfold it. As the nurse sits on the side of my bed watching me, I just stare at the smudged writing that was quickly scrawled on the paper.
It says:

"Dear Girl,
My headache has finally faded and I hope yours has too. Just a moment ago, I heard the faint sound of the officials outside my door, although they did not enter. I fear that they will soon. And who knows what they plan to do to us? But what I am sure about, is that they are going to want to know why our minds were acting against the blue pill that they gave us. I'm not sure if they know that we were immune to it, but they will go to any extent to get answers from us.
Brace yourself."

My heart starts racing and my breathing becomes uneven. I knew the time would come when the officials would want to interrogate us again, but this is too soon. I look up at the nurse and after she is finished reading, she gives me a worried look.

"The officials want to meet you today, here-" she says, pushing the bowl of warm water towards me, "go clean up."

I shut the door behind me and rest my elbows on the sides of the porcelain sink. All the colour drains from my face when I look up at the mirror only to find a reflection of a weak, helpless girl looking back at me. My hair is in a bundle of knots and my weary eyes are rimmed in red. Suddenly a wave of anger washes over me and I punch the reflection of the girl looking back at me. Shards of glass fall into the sink and clatter on the floor. I look back at the mirror and my reflection has turned into an ugly, distorted mess. That is exactly what I am now, I think as blood trickles from my knuckles. In a matter of days I have changed from a neat and organized Runner to a helpless mess that the officials are planning to get rid of. This is all because of the boy. My hands clench into fist and I lean against the wall. I stare at the drops of blood that have stained the white tiled floor. What am I thinking? The boy is the one who helped me save my memories. I violently shake my head, turn on the faucet, and splash freezing water on my face. It brings me back to my senses. I strip off my hospital gown and gingerly step into the small shower. I turn it on and tilt my head toward the shower head allowing the penetrating drops of cold water to cleanse me. I run my fingers through my hair and forget about the world outside the bathroom door.