I Feel It in My Blood Now

I stared out the small, plexiglass window on the door of my cell, looking at everyone that passed by, afraid for my life.

Ever since I was accepted here for participating in some sort of scientific experiment, the doctor’s been giving me these shots. For what reason, I don’t know. There was nothing wrong with me until I started getting these shots, now I feel...strange. Sort of dead or decayed in a way. Sometimes, I get these impulses to just go completely spastic and freak out. I haven’t done anything yet, but the urges are getting harder to control.

I concentrate on the outside people’s actions, their movements, their eyes. They looked absolutely rabid, their movements disorganized and frantic as two guards had to lead them down the hallway. Their skin was snow white and their faces looked sunken in, like they need sleep or nourishment. They were lead down into the dreaded room, where the doctor would give your daily dose. Everybody feared that room.

A huge pain shot through my abdomen, causing me to collapse, sucking in quick breaths. This wasn’t uncommon, just part of the process. It’s been moving up my body for the past two weeks, and it won’t be long until it reaches my heart, then my brain.

I grasped my torso and curled up, wishing the pain to be over.

My stomach felt queasy. I could feel the bile burning in the back of my throat. I tried hurrying to get to the toilet, but I was too late, splattering most of it on the floor. The sight of it horrified me. What came up wasn’t bile, but something black and tar like, mixed with blood.

My body started shaking as I backed away from it, falling onto the ground. I stared at it in shock.

What the hell is happening to me?

I didn’t call out to anyone or shout for help; never do that, not unless you want an extra dose.

I got up slowly, unsteady, to grab some paper towels to wipe my mess. I set the paper towel over top of it. I bent down to wipe it up, but pulled my hand away quickly. It burned like acid on my skin. I looked at my hand, and my palm was red and seared, the pain only getting worse as my hand started smoking. I rushed to the sink and quickly began to scrub my hands with soap, which stung my raw skin. My blood mixed with the water running down the drain. The burning finally stopped, and I stopped running the water. My hand was all bubbly and blistered, bleeding in places with more damage. I dried off my hands and wrapped my hand in one of my few hand towels, fastening it with a safety-pin from one of my pairs of pants. A little bit of blood soaked through, and the pain eventually subsided enough for me to breathe normally again. I fell onto my bed, emotionally and physically exhausted. I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep, my only escape from this horrible, inescapable science experiment.

I came out of my peaceful state when I heard voices quietly conversing amongst themselves as they came into my room. My body stiffened when I realized that my next shot was probably here.

I heard a pair of footsteps come closer to my bed, and my eyes automatically shot open.
The doctor smiled at me, fake warmth within it. He doesn’t really care what happens to the patients; we’re just lab rats in an experiment. “Hello, Mr. Zimmerman, I’m here to give you your nightly shot.”

“Get that fucking needle away from me.” I swung my legs off the bed, my feet hitting the floor. “I want out of this experiment, I don’t know what you’re doing to me, to the rest of us, but it’s not normal.” I got off the bed, shoving my stuff in the backpack I brought along, zipping up all the contents.

“Now, now, Mr. Zimmerman, everything’s going to be fine. Your body is just reacting to the medicine, it’s completely normal. Everything should be okay within the next couple days...”

“How do you consider this,” I paused, walking to the paper towels on the floor, lifting them up by any part that wasn’t covered in the acidic, bloody, black substance that came out of me earlier. I threw the towels aside, pointing to it. “How is that normal?! No normal person throws up black, bloody...I don’t even know what it is, that burns your skin.” I unwrapped my hand, but the burn was gone. My hand looked like it was never even touched by acid. I looked at the cloth, which still had remnants of my blood on it, so I knew it wasn’t a dream.
I threw the cloth to the ground. “What the fuck is happening to me?” I demanded from the doctor.

“You are fine, Ryan, you’re only going to get better if we continue with the series of shots.” He said, coming closer with the needle, starting to aim for the vein on the inside of my elbow.

“No, those shots are what started this whole thing in the first place. I’m. Done.” I said, picking my backpack up, swinging it over my back, starting to walk out.

I felt myself being pulled back suddenly by two pairs of hands, wrestling me to the ground. The doctor and the other person that came in with him were holding me down. The doctor had a crazed look in his eyes. “You can’t walk out, Mr. Zimmerman. Once you’ve started, there’s no going back. You’re one of them now.” He shoved the needle straight into my neck, hitting the main artery. I writhed in pain as the doctor shot the toxic fluid straight into my bloodstream. My body slowly came to a calm stop.

He pulled the needle out and instantly covered the hole with gauze and medical tape. “I’m sorry, Mr. Zimmerman, but that was our only option.” He got off his knees and walked out of the room with his little follower, shutting the door tight behind him.

I just laid on the floor, staring at the white wall in front of my eyes, feeling lifeless.

Then the pain began. As I predicted, it went straight to my heart, and it was so unbearable. I felt like it was dying inside me, but I wasn’t dying with it. The pain also shot up to my head.

This was the worst. My stomach got that uneasy feeling again, and I ran to the sink.

The same bloody black stuff came up, but there was a lot more of it.

I started dry heaving, looking in the mirror, scaring myself.

My complexion was as white as the others I’ve seen, my face just as sunken in. My eyes glowed a slightly brighter blue than before, looking unnatural. The stuff running down my chin wasn’t burning like I thought it would’ve been. I wiped it away with the back of my hand, completely bewildered.

I wiped it on my pants and continued to look at my reflection.

Was this really me? Was the mirror tricking my mind, and in reality I still looked...alive?

The room was eerily silent. I listened for the fast paced heartbeat that should be occurring in my chest, but it wasn’t there.

If it wasn’t there, how could I still be here?

I gripped the sides of the sink, looking down into it, permanently stained black.

One more spasm of pain in my chest erupted. I squeezed the sides of the ceramic sink, breaking it.

I directed my attention away from the pain in my chest to focus on what I just did.

I broke ceramic. With my bare hands?

I dropped the pieces and dropped to my bed. None of this made any sense. Was I turning into some kind of monster?

I shook my head, answering my own question. “No, I’m not a monster...I...I’m just a sick man.”

I kept telling myself that until I passed out from exhaustion early in the morning.

“Mr. Zimmerman, Mr. Zimmerman.” I heard my name being faintly called by a female voice. I opened my eyes and looked in the direction of the voice. She was standing outside of my door, calling to me through the small opening toward the bottom of the door.

“You have a visitor.” She said. “Would you like to see them?”

I nodded, yawning, feeling more normal than I did yesterday. I didn’t want to look in the mirror. Maybe last night was all a dream, and I’m still human. I had the same hopes every morning when I awoke, but when I looked over by the sink, seeing it still in pieces, my hopes were ended.

I got off the bed and rubbed sleep out of my eyes, going to the mirror regardless of whether I wanted to or not.

My reflection looks no better than it did last night, unfortunately. I started fixing the long, tangled mess on the top of my head, getting it to look semi-decent. I had a feeling that Amanda was going to be the one visiting, wondering when I’d be coming home. I wanted to give her an answer, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be going home. My rational mind has been slipping, and I've been becoming more rabid, more out of control.

The door opened and the girl led Amanda into my room. She looked disgusted as she passed my mess on the floor, and confused at the broken sink. I kept my eyes on the floor as she sat next to me.

“Ryan, you look horrible.” She said, putting her hand on my leg.

Unconsciously, I knocked her hand away.

“What happened to you?” She asked, more urgently, pushing my hair out of my face.

I grabbed her wrist tightly, and she made a little noise, meaning she was in pain. Part of my brain told me that I should smile, that this was a good thing, while the other was yelling at me to stop. The yelling became less as a smile spread across my face. “You should probably just shoot me in the head now, otherwise, I’m gonna kill you.” I let go of her wrist and she sprang up from my bed, heading towards the door, but I got there in a third of the time. I grabbed her throat, slamming her against the door. “Don’t you just love what I’ve become?”

I leaned my face close to hers, pressing my lips to hers, parting her lips. I gagged and more of my acidic toxin passed from my mouth to hers, making her scream a gargling, painful scream. I let go of her as she fell to the floor, her corpse staring out into nothing, her mouth black, blood dripping out of her lips.

I smirked down at her lifeless body, pushing it out of the way of the door, and the lock just so happened to be broken, most likely because of me. I grabbed my backpack, taking the sharpie out of one of the outside pockets. Making sure the coast was clear, I wrote on the outside of the door before taking off.

You better lock the doors and hide.