027
“You’re hurting me.”
I was beginning to hate mornings
because there were always needles in my skin
and I was always sad.
But this morning was different.
There were still needles
and I was still sad,
but these needles were dressed in
Get Ready To Die
and the nurse’s smiles
were far too genuine.
My protests only came out
as sweet, sweet promise
of a larger paycheck
and their candy red lips
grew bigger,
scarier.
“Oh, sweetie,
it’s for you’re
own good.”
Said the ghost of
a human
as she ran a number across my eyes.
150 units
Of what?
Death?
That’s what I suspected.
They were going to kill me.
I was going to die.
No.
Impossible.
If my heart was going to stop
Bruce would be standing outside
the door
wearing a suit, tie,
and a grin.
He’d laugh at me
as the red creeped
across my vision.
I was not going to die today,
and I still had absolutely no clue
why I was so happy about it.
