Teenage Bones

The Beginning.

They drag me into a white room using my arms to hold me and in the middle is a padded chair with wrist straps on the arms. I was too tired to fight, I tried over and over to dig my heels into the stone floor but it was like they couldn't even tell. They sat me into the chair and did up all the buckles. Some are tightened around my ankles which I hadn't even noticed. They wheel in a stainless steel surgical tray, on it I could make out stitch needles, weird thread, gauze, and bandages. I don't feel afraid, to be honest, a numb sensation with a weight in my chest ties me down. A doctor comes in with another wheeled tray, this time with a selection of scalpels. Two guards walk in assisting the two observers, one observer smoking a cigarette with new bruises and cuts on his right cheekbone and an old cut on the bridge of his nose and another observer, clean, holding a clipboard. One of the two guards twists my left arm so my inner arm was facing upwards and tighten the straps I couldn't twist it back. The doctor picks up a small scalpel and pushes it into my left wrist, dragging it up towards my upper arm but stopping at the crease of my elbow. For a moment, it looked like a zip opening up my arm. I expect a scream to escape my lips but instead, I just feel calmer and relaxed, the guy with the clipboard turns away and I just see a note written '1/2 inch depth.' When I don't react, a nod comes from the clipboard guy and a bigger scalpel in slashed deeper, this time 90° to the big cut and started in the crease of my elbow. One, two, three or four, it was really painful and this time it didn't have a calm effect. I scream and move as much as I can. Panic suffocates me like a pillow as the doctor goes on and makes red ribbons that eventually reach the floor. I scream and mumble and beg for them to stop. The guy with the cigarette turns away like he can't watch anymore, he eventually raises his voice.

"Stop the fucking experiment, she'll bleed out! Just carry on with the-" he didn't finish because I get overwhelmed and scream stop, which pushes the doctor, both trays and the guy with the clipboard away. The only one not on the floor is the guy with the cuts, and he smiles. This is what they were waiting for me to do- what did I do?

"Sustade her and stitch her up," The clipboard guy says I begin shaking, avoiding the needle that's ready to slide into my veins, but I couldn't move and before I know it, I fight to wake up but slip into the inky darkness.

When I come to my surroundings, I am in a hospital bed in a white room. Next to the bed is a glass of water and a plastic cup with pills. I tried to get up but I couldn't learn, or rotate on my bandaged up left forearm, I wasn't even sure if this much pain was real. When I take the pills and most of the pain leaves, but sharp twinge is still there when I move it. There is a door opposite the bed and what I guess to be a two-way mirror next to it. I swipe the glass in my right hand, my left arm cradled to me, and throw as hard as I can at the mirror. The glass shatters around the medium plain room but the mirror stays intact, and without a scratch or dent. Deciding it was better to sit on the bed, I plop down and inspect my arm, giant patches of blood seep through and it looks still wet. On the other side of the bed was an IV connected to a water solution. The cannula was in a sterile tray with gloves and everything I would need, so I swing my legs over to see alcohol pads and everything else. How shy of them, they should have just done it, they've already taken away my ability to wear short sleeves ever again. Or to even be view as a stable person.

The door slides open and a cleaner wearing a white uniform walked in. "Hello?" I said but it was almost too quiet to be called a whisper. The cleaner didn't say anything, just kept cleaning the broken glass off of the floor. At one point the cleaner went over the same spot over and over before she jerks, hoovering the rest and carried it out. I fall back on my bed, regretting the choice not to take a piece of broken glass and threaten her with it until someone came to open the door.

As if my wish was heard, a woman strutted in. White button-up shirt, white tie, white blazer, and shiny white plastic-like shoes. She is a slender woman with blonde hair that is littered with stray grey hair, pale blue-grey eyes and she presents herself confidently. She doesn't come close to me and stands near the door but she made no hesitant moves.