The Wall

Testing and Reminiscing

Grace

I expected the room to at least look a bit stark. It was, in a way, but not flat-out-creepy stark. The walls were painted a yellow that has faded in the building’s only skylight and had turned a sickly color. Tacky rainbows were painted on the walls, making the room look only more depressing. Then I remembered what this room is really for. It was for the daycare kids back when we were kids. But, since then, it has dilapidated and worn away since it was abandoned a year ago for a bigger room for the new kids. There was a cot in the middle of the room. a medical table was stationed by it.  The stout woman wrote in a clip board as I sat down and started sterilizing my arm with rubbing alcohol. “This will only sting a little bit, honey. Just look away and you won’t even know you’re getting a shot” Too late now, lady, you just told me.

She basically stabbed the needle in my arm, leaving it stinging and her mumbling about how I was prone to bleeding. She handed me a band-aid with a cartoon mouse that my grandparents would’ve known who it was. The nurse caught my gaze and she sighed. “It’s Mickey Mouse” and then she shrugged her shoulders and left me alone in the room. I heard muffled voices arguing, and a different doctor strode in the door. He was emaciated and dark-skinned. His name tag said “Jackson” and he wrote in his clipboard briefly. Jackson’s face was droopy and sad with age. I wonder if I’ll look like that when I get older? Or will I just waste away like the rest here; or even worse, not even living to see the day I grow old? I shuddered. Jackson’s eyes flicked to mine.

“Are you cold?”

“No, sir, just nervous” It was only partly a lie. I was nervous. He wrote more in his book. 

“I’m going to give you another injection to help the last one do it’s work” He took out a needle and sterilized my other arm. I winced at the prickle of blood. Gross. He put another small bandaid over it. 

“Sensitive to blood?” He asked.

“Errr...Ummm, Yeah, sure. It’s gross.” He wrote some more on the clipboard. I had a sudden urge to know what he was writing. “Not to be rude or anything, but what are you writing?” 

He glanced downwards towards his notes and laughed. “I’m just recording your psychological side-affects. It is extremely amazing that you’re not asleep yet.” He wrote some more, “Also, you’re sweating and you eyes are dilated. Are you allergic to anything?”

“No, sir.”

“Astounding. Lie hear for awhile, I’m going to give you an antihistamine, you must be allergic to the acacia extract.”

“I can’t breathe” crapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapCRAP. My vison blurred and each of my breaths became shallower and it felt like I was fighting for each one.

“Definitely anaphylactic shock, try to calm down” He jabbed the needle in my left arm. Black dots faded in and out. It took awhile, but I eventually was able to breathe normally again.

“What was the original shot for?” This was getting interesting.

“It was for one of your training exams. You’ll catch up.”

“What was it supposed to do?”

“It recorded your weaknesses and fears.” Ok. Scary.

“That sounds pretty important, are you sure I’ll catch up?”

“You’ll be fine, we can do the manual test” Not reassuring. As if Jackson read my mind, he said, “It’s not so bad, I’ll just ask you a few questions.” 

The questions weren’t so bad, just vague questions that I have no idea how they relate to the test.

"Where were you born?"