Beads of perspiration form in your palms when you think of the doctor. You don't like the way he looked at you: he was a jackal and you were his prey. His sick excitement chilled you to the bone.
Your vision is still hazy.
Panic begins to bloom in your chest as you hear footsteps approaching the door. Regret floods your thoughts.
I should've tried to break the zip-ties when I had the chance. I'm so stupid! God only knows what he'll do to me now.
"How's my favorite patient?" he says with a smile that makes you want to shrink into the bed sheets, dissolve into nothingness, anything to get away from him.
"Now, don't be shy, how's your vision?"
You don't answer him. You seem unable to move, fear coursing through your veins. You know he has so much power over you.
"Didn't your mother ever teach you that ignoring people is rude? LOOK AT ME WHEN I SPEAK TO YOU," he says through gritted teeth.
Grabbing your face, he forces you to look up at him. You can feel bruises forming along your jawline.
"Please. Please, I don't know what I did to deserve this. I don't understand. What is going to happen to me?" you whisper, fat tears escaping from your eyes.
Maniacal laughter fills the room. You begin to feel dizzy, and your vision comes in in foggy waves.
A needle enters your arm, right where the bug did. He places something over your face.
Cold. Piercing, thought-clouding, cold. Fear stirs inside of you, but the lack of oxygen numbs even that. The laughter continues.
I guess this is what it's like to die.
The End
-s.s.
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