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“Um...an hour or two ago.” My hand began to scratch at my arm. Was I hallucinating, or was there something crawling beneath the surface?
He nodded solemnly.
“May I?” He held up his stethoscope, and my face twisted in distaste.
“Do I have a choice?”
“No.”
At least he was honest.
* * *
The next hourwas the equivalent of a doctor’s physical. He tested my reflexes, checked my blood pressure and temperature, and jotted down what seemed like hundreds of notes. When he was done, I’d been poked and prodded more times than I care to admit.
I was tired and hungry, but at least I learned the old doctor’s name. Deth.
Dr. Deth, ironically pronounced like death. By the time we were done, he was more animated than I thought possible. He practically smiled which seemed to be a normal person’s version of bouncing off the walls and partaking in orgies.
“Incredible,” he murmured, staring at a vial of my blood he had drawn. “Absolutely incredible.”
“Um...thanks?”
My voice had his head snapping up, eyes narrowing. For a long moment, he merely considered me with keen eyes. Seemingly coming to some unknown conclusion, he nodded and gestured me forward.
“Come,” he said, moving towards the door. I made move to follow him before freezing, hands going to my opened gown.
His lips twisted down further. Honestly, I was beginning to think he only had two expressions: a glower and a frown. Maybe he was just immune to my sparkly personality.
With a heavy sigh, he nodded towards my discarded clothes.
“Change.”
“Yes,” I replied. Apparently, we were speaking one word at a time.
I waited until he exited before pulling off the gown and stepping into my pants. I quickly donned my shirt. While Deth didn’t scream pervy vibes, I didn’t want to test my luck. I saw how some of the men at the compound had looked at me: as if I was meat prepared to be devoured. The last thing I wanted to do was add fuel to the fire in a society where perpetrators were victimized and actual victims were blamed.
Deth was waiting for me outside my door when I exited. Immediately, he began to walk down the long hallway.
“Are we meeting up with my parents? Hideous people, both of them. There are some people you want to see dead, and there are some that you want to cut up into pieces, castrate with a rusty spoon, and feed their entrails to stripper penguins. Guess which category Dear Old Dad and Mommy Dearest fall into? I’ll give you a little hint: it’s not the first one. Sure, a death would be nice, but torture sounds much more amusing. Does that make me a horrible daughter? Wanting pain and suffering bestowed on the people who tortured me for years? Hmmm…I don’t really need to be on Santa’s nice list. Not that I ever got presents, mind you. I think my mom got an STD from my father one year, but that’s the extent of gifts. Wait! Christmas when I was twelve. I got a stuffed bear because D.O.D. was trying to impress a fellow business man. Took me to a Christmas party and pretended to be a doting father. Afterwards, he stole the bear from my hands and sold it for crack. You’d be surprised by the things you can sell for crack, especially around the holidays.”
We stopped in front of a large window displaying a hospital room similar to the one I just came from. Same uncomfortable looking bed, white painted walls, and freshly mopped tiles. A young man was lying on the hospital bed, arms and legs strapped to each post. His body shook with sobs, barely audible pleas leaving his lips.
Horror filled me, and I brought a hand to my mouth. Tears stung my eyes.
“Why are you showing me this?” I whispered. Was this what my future held? Strapped down like a prisoner and crying?
“Don’t waste your tears on this man,” Deth said harshly. “He was an inmate at the prison a few towns over. Murder, first-degree.”
The door to the room opened, and two men entered. Each one wore white biohazard suits and masks. A silver cylinder was gripped tightly in one of the men’s gloved hands.
“Watch,” Deth instructed. Unbidden, my eyes turned back to the scene. My brain screamed at me, warned me to look away. It understood that what I was about to see was going to be gruesome. Disgusting. Horrifying. Yet, I couldn’t move, utterly captivated.
The biohazard man unscrewed the lid and held it over the sobbing, trembling man. A white worm crawled over the edge before dropping onto the man’s bare stomach.
“Please, no! Please! I have a family! I have children!” But the man’s pleas fell on deaf ears. Without another word, the two men in white exited out the door they came through. The final clank of the door shutting was ominous. Damning. The tiny hairs on my arm stood up.
The man, the prisoner, was screaming and thrashing, eyes fixed on the worm crawling over him.
