Fixed

Chapter 2

The feeling wasn't there, but the words were. I could hear all the voices surrounding me while I was sleeping, but what they were doing to me remained a very-unsolved mystery to me.

"We need tissue samples from each limb," a man with a husky voice - I'm guessing the doctor - says plainly. "One from a leg, one from an arm, and everywhere in between." He sounds agitated, which must be a sign that something isn't going right.

The sound of metal trays and tools banging into each other fills my very-alive ears, along with pained whispers coming from multiple nurses. One nurse seems calm, but her voice is a little shaky, like she's unsure about all that's taking place."Why do we need more than one tissue sample?" she whispers. I have no idea why they're all whispering, unless they're aware of the fact that I can hear everything they are saying. "All these incisions are going to leave bad scars. One tissue sample is enough."

"I doubt what we're doing will affect her the slightest bit."

I want to scream. And if I were awake, I would be. And I'd be killing that doctor.

"If we only take one tissue sample, something could go wrong in the labs when we're testing it, which would leave us with nothing," the doctor says, sounding a lot more frustrated than before.

"But why do we need tissue s-"

"Do what I tell you and not what anyone else says! Got that?" This doctor is a jerk. He's treating this innocent nurse like a piece of garbage.

The nurse responds with a quiet, "Yes, sir." She sounds defeated. I would be too if I were in her position.

Clinking noises return and the grumpy doctor and quiet nurses return to what they were doing. Resonating around the room is the horrid sound of slicing and foot-tapping. My ears can't take the noise, nor do they want to.

All the nurses are following the doctor's orders. They're cutting into me to get the tissue samples that the doctor commanded them to get. But what I don't understand is why they need to take multiple tissue samples. I came to this hospital to get a high-tech blood testing done, which I thought only involved taking blood, not tissue.

I want to break out of this sleep and rip the doctor's head off. My mind is clouded with empowerment, and I so badly just want to sit up, but then again, only my mind is awake right now.

And every second is torture.

***

Feeling floods through my body like a powerful river and my eyes flutter open.

The darkness in the room alarms me, making me believe that there are no lights on and I'm stuck, but in reality, I'm just being delusional.

A nurse stands at the foot of the table looking over papers on her clipboard when she notices that I'm awake and starting to move. "Sorry about all the cuts," she says with an extremely apologetic tone. I recognize her voice from when I was asleep. She's the nurse who was arguing with the doctor.

I sit up straight and look down at my exposed legs. A burning pain covers the bandaged parts of my legs, and my arms are the exact same way. My gown, which is bunched up near my rib cage, is covered in dried up blood. Did they use it as a mop? But my whole torso is spotted with blood, so I doubt that's the case.

"Why am I covered in blood?" I ask quietly, tears building up in my eyes. Sorrow has taken over inside me and I feel my face begin to flush. They revealed all of my scars, and all of my flaws. They tore away my privacy.

The nurse's eyebrows pop up and she hands me a cloth out of her pocket. I take it automatically. "Thank you."

I clean myself up and then stare down at my arms and legs. If 42.33183.05 didn't exist, I'd be fine. I wouldn't have scars; I wouldn't have cuts that will leave me marked forever. My eyes avert back up to the nurse. "What's my blood type?" I mumble.